


A Jedi in Dumbledore's Court: Episode II

by Mnementh1



Series: A Jedi in Dumbledore's Court [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 110,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnementh1/pseuds/Mnementh1
Summary: Harry Potter, Jedi Padawan, returns for his second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With Voldemort still trying to come back to life, Harry and his friends must face additional foes at Hogwarts during her most desperate hour. The opening of the Chamber of Secrets! Sequel to A Jedi in Dumbledore's Court - Episode I
Series: A Jedi in Dumbledore's Court [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005861
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

_Nar Shaddaa_

It was nearing dawn in the western province of Nar Shaddaa. You couldn't really tell the time by the light, of course. The constant glow of electric light vanished any hint of the night on the city-planet. Like Coruscant, the capital of the Republic, Nar Shaddaa was a city that encompassed an entire world. The entire surface was covered with buildings and streets. But while Coruscant featured skyscrapers with luxurious apartments and high-end restaurants, Nar Shaddaa had crumbling high-rises filled with communal living pods and seedy bars. Instead of senators and politicians, there were crime overlords and the people they preyed upon.

A small disturbance in the air, less even than a breeze, made its way down a street in a less than reputable neighbourhood. It swept into an unlit alcove where a large, duraplast door stood. This was crime lord Jabari Retter's back door. The tip of a thin stick of wood emerged from thin air and pointed itself at the door lock.

" _Alohomora_ ," an unseen voice whispered. With a soft click, the door unlocked. The barely visible bit of wood disappeared again. Moving silently on well-lubricated hinges, the door swung open for a moment, then closed again.

In a room deep within the complex, a red light started to flash insistently. A soft beeping drew the attention of a security officer. Seeing the light, he silenced the audible alarm. Reaching over to another set of controls, he flipped a switch. This activated a video camera that was hidden in a lighting fixture on the ceiling near the alarming door. The officer focused the camera feed on the door, then swept it in a 360-degree arc, looking for intruders.

Inside the door was a long hallway filled with small rooms that were clearly holding cells. This was Jabari's personal prison. If you ended up owing him money and you or your family couldn't make the payments, you were confined in here for a month. The only way to be freed before your sentence was up was for someone on the outside somehow came up with the money. If you didn't have the money raised for you, you were 'released' at the end of your sentence straight into the arena. Being released meant you were being sent to the arena to fight for your life. If you managed to survive three rounds, you were actually released. You were then sent a bill for your next payment, which was the amount you owed in full. Another way to find yourself locked in this prison was to be captured while searching through Jabari Retter's personal data files.

Seeing nothing amiss, the guard manning the security panel reset the alarm. He dutifully grabbed a datapad and filled out a report for maintenance.

The slight disturbance in the air currents was now in the hall, having entered through the door. A maintenance man walked towards the door. He had been dispatched to investigate and repair the alarm. The air disturbance entered an unused cell to avoid the man. Even though he glanced into the room and looked straight at the disturbance, all the maintenance man saw was the wall behind it.

The mechanic removed a panel from the door and plugged a probe in. The tip of the probe glowed a solid green. He removed it and plugged into another spot. Green again. Another. Green. The mechanic removed the probe, replaced the panel, gathered up his tools, and left. The disturbance moved back into the hallway as soon as he had turned the corner.

The small sliver of wood appeared in front of the door lock for Cell 217. The voice again whispered " _alohomora,"_ and paused as the door unlocked. The door slid open again, and the disturbance entered the cell, the door closing behind it.

* * *

In the security office, the officer noted a different light began to blink.

"Another one?" asked a man shown on a video screen above the panel. He was impeccably dressed and spoke in an accented, but meticulously articulated voice.

"Yes," answered the security officer. "The first alarm was for the rear door, now the door for Cell 217. I've confirmed by live and recorded video feed that no one entered while either door was open, and the prisoner is still accounted for in his cell."

"I don't like taking chances," the man on the video screen said with a frown.

* * *

In Cell 217, the disturbance approached the man lying on a metal bunk that was welded to the wall.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" a low, raspy voice asked.

Slipping off his invisibility cloak, Harry Potter became visible and released the bindings on the prisoner's wrists and ankles.

"Getting you out of here, Master Amani," Harry answered.

"Obviously," said his lightsaber trainer. "What I asked, though, was why are YOU here. I hardly think Kendet approved a half-trained Jedi whelp for this job."

Amani got up out of bed, painfully. He had taken an uncounted number of beatings over the past week, and he knew they were softening him up to throw him in the arena.

"I was considered the best equipped for the job," Harry answered, slipping his invisibility cloak into a pouch secured to his robes. The cloak was fairly large but fit into the pouch with no additional bulk. "If you'd prefer, though, I can always go back to base and tell them you'd like a different rescuer."

"Cute, Potter," Amani said. "These guards are no joke. They caught me, after all. It took twenty of them, but they have the numbers. What's your plan to get us out of here, or did you just volunteer to keep me company as I die?"

"Can you walk?" Harry asked. "I got in through the back door, which isn't that far from here."

"Which was also alarmed," said an amused, accented voice from behind Harry.

Turning, Harry Potter and Master Amani were confronted by a dozen guards. Standing between the Jedi and the guards was Keyon Hayley, Jabari Retter's personal bodyguard and chief enforcer.

* * *

Master Toma Kendet was worried about his Padawan. He had not felt right sending the young boy to infiltrate a crime lord's prison and had objected strenuously to the plan. It was felt by some on the council, though, that Harry's magic was a tool that should be utilized. Others, usually the older, more conservative council members, felt Harry's magic should not be used at all.

Once Harry had demonstrated that not only could his _Alohomora_ charm quickly and easily unlock doors that even the best Jedi slicers had difficulty with, but his invisibility cloak could allow him to infiltrate the prison undetected, the balance of opinion shifted. The council deemed young Harry to be the best option to retrieve the captured Master Amani. Toma had argued for a larger force of Jedi to storm the palace, but it was decided that a direct confrontation would only increase the chances of the captured Jedi being killed before he could be extracted. Harry had certainly wanted to go, and Toma could not argue against the decision of the council.

Harry, however, was now well past his window of operation. He should have left the complex a half hour ago, with or without Master Amani. With no communications from his Padawan, Toma knew that he was almost certainly captured. Knowing the reputation of Jabari Retter, Toma knew a rescue operation would have to be executed swiftly.

Fortunately, such a rescue was planned into their mission profile as a plan B. Unfortunately, the assault squadron of troopers that were supposed to be backing the Jedi up on this mission had been scrubbed on launch due to technical issues with their dropship. No other squadron or dropships were available at this time. The Republic had a very small presence on Nar Shaddaa, which was nicknamed The Smuggler's Moon by the less than law-abiding residents. Deciding that desperate times called for desperate measures, Toma brought his communicator to his lips and whispered into it.

* * *

The guards marched the two Jedi down the corridor in the opposite direction of the back door. The prisoners were shackled at the ankles and wrists. They were searched by rough hands. Harry's lightsaber and communicator were hidden along with his invisibility cloak in his Mokeskin pouch, which was concealed in a fold of his Jedi robes, and further hidden with a notice-me-not charm. His wand was also overlooked thanks to the same charm on the wand holster strapped to his wrist. Harry had learned his lesson on securing his gear in the magically enchanted bag. It could hold ten times as much gear as he usually carried with no increase in bulk whatsoever.

Keyon Hayley was all manners and politeness as he ushered the Jedi to the arena floor.

"I do hope this isn't an inconvenience for you," Hayley said to Amani, speaking as if he were a maitre d' who was ever so sorry that his clients' favourite balcony seat was unavailable. "I'm sure you understand, though. Security must be upheld, after all."

The Iridonian Zabrak Jedi Master was not known for having the longest temper, and he was clearly growing annoyed at the simpering tone of the crime lord's key enforcer. Amani never allowed his temper to run amok, however, or to cause him to underestimate his opponent. Keyon Hayley was not a maitre d', and the bodyguard had not risen to the rank he had by playing nice, however polite his tone.

Harry and Amani were led to a large arena with raised bleachers looking down onto the field of combat. Their shackles were removed, and they were shoved out onto the arena floor. Various obstacles were strewn around the dirt surface, and four openings to the service tunnels underneath the arena divided the circular floor into four quadrants. A variety of handheld melee weapons littered the arena. Instead of trying to scavenge for weapons, Harry retrieved two cylinders from his Mokeskin pouch. One was gold with a mirror finish, and the other was longer and a dull grey. He tossed the longer cylinder to Master Amani, who caught it.

That was all the time they were given to arm themselves before the first of their opponents were brought in. There were seven of them. These were volunteers from Jabari Retter's guards who moonlighted in the arena on days off for extra money. They usually fought gamblers who were too far down in the chips or some poor lowlife who had the misfortune of crossing paths with Jabari or Keyon.

"Don't show them any mercy, Potter," Master Amani said to his young student. "They are killers, and they won't show you any."

"Yes, Master," Harry said, steeling himself for what would shortly come.

Standing on a raised balcony above the audience was the crime lord Jabari Retter himself. Keyon Hayley stood by his side. The crime lord addressed the crowd which filled the stands.

"My citizens, welcome!" he called out. His voice, amplified by a PA system, was accented very similarly to Keyon Hayley, but without the simpering politeness.

"These two criminals were caught infiltrating my palace," he accused. "The man was captured in my personal data centre, rifling through my private files. Showing they are truly nothing but criminals, the Jedi then sent a child to rescue him. This boy was caught in his compatriot's cell, preparing him for escape." Retter threw his hands out wide. "My daughter, the gem of this community, has been kidnapped! Taken from her loving family by my greatest enemy! Only 19 years old and just starting to spread her wings!" he despaired.

"What do the Jedi do?" he asked the crowd. "Do they help me retrieve my jewel? No! They sneak like thieves into my home to ransack my files and steal my prisoners!" He lowered his head and his voice as he pronounced his sentence. "For this, there can be only one punishment. The only punishment is it within my authority as the leader of this community to sentence them to. Death in the arena!"

With that pronouncement, the guards advanced on the Jedi to the roared pleasure of the watching crowd. All were armed with vibroswords, and one also carried a mace. It was clear that execution in the arena was intended to be slow, bloody, and painful.

Harry depressed a switch that was flush with the handle of the golden cylinder in his hand. A bright, ruby red blade of light erupted from the handle with an electric snap. The sound settled into an ominous hum as green and gold gems of light chased each other through ribbons of light in the depth of the blade. Master Amani held the cylinder Harry had tossed him horizontally in front of him, and some of the guards shivered in fear as first one, then a second indigo blue blade slid out of the handle. Harry held his lightsaber in a defensive posture with his left hand and readied his wand with his right. He knew that once the fighting started, he would not likely get another chance to attack at range, so he targeted the guard carrying the deadliest looking weapon and fired a tickling hex. The guard went down, laughing uncontrollably and twisting this way and that to escape the unseen fingers. The other guards stared at him for a moment, then charged at the Jedi.

Master Amani was whirling and dodging, blocking attacks from three of the guards as the remaining three focused on Harry. The young Jedi, now with both hands grasping his lightsaber, defended against his assailants. He moved between them and threw their attacks off. It was quickly obvious that two of of the guards had Cortosis-Weave Vibroswords, but one had only the standard model. The standard model, not lightsaber resistant, was now a smoking ruin, and it's wielder soon followed. Back and forth, parry and lunge, he alternated strikes against both his remaining opponents. One of the guards took a step back to gain some distance. Harry positioned himself between his opponents and switched from defence to an attack stance on the closest guard. He drove the man back, and thus increased his distance from the first guard. The man who had stepped away was not retreating, though. He removed a bulky, short-barreled gun from his belt and aimed it at the young Jedi's back. Pulling the trigger, he fired a rocket-propelled razorwire net at the Padawan.

Alerted to the danger by the Force, Harry leapt into the air in a force enhanced backflip that had the metal net pass safely underneath him… and straight into the guard's partner. The net swept the man off his feet, and the rockets propelled him into the wall. Barbs on the rockets dug into the wall and began retracting the net. The man screamed as the wires dug into his skin, leaving a gridlike maze of red on every visible bit of skin. The screams soon stopped. The remaining guard stood and stared in horror as the net he had fired killed his partner. Harry, landing behind him, took advantage of the distraction and dispatched the distracted guard. He turned to see Master Amani finishing off the last of his opponents. They regrouped in the centre of the arena, listening to the jeering of the mob as bets were taken and argued over. The two Jedi assumed a defensive posture again, knowing more opponents would soon be sent their way. They didn't have to wait long. A fresh group of guards ran into the arena. They noticed with alarm that these were more heavily armed and armoured. There were also twelve of them. They readied themselves for battle. Without warning, blaster bolts flashed from behind the Jedi, and half of their opponents dropped dead! The remaining gladiators stopped their advance in confusion and stared at the Jedi, thinking they had done some Force magic on their fallen teammates.

The guards quickly came to the realization that their opponents were no longer outnumbered when at least thirty heavily armed men and women came pouring out of the tunnel access points! They all had shaved heads with red chevrons tattooed on their skulls, sending a message to all that they were members of the Red Skulls. This rival gang had a blood feud with Jabari Retter and his family, and they were here to extract payment.

Additional Retter troops came running to bolster the numbers of the guards who were now seriously outnumbered as more and more Red Skull poured into the arena. Half of the audience panicked and scrambled out of the stands. Harry and Amani used the distraction to position themselves behind cover. It looked very much like a blood bath was in the making, and they didn't want to be caught in the middle.

As the last of the Red Skulls filled the arena and aimed their weapons at the Retter forces, Toma Kendet strode into the throng. He was yelling for both sides to put their weapons down, that no more blood needed to be spilt this day. It was clear that the Red Skull, while not hostile to him, were not going to listen to his calls for peace. The Retter forces were even less likely to throw down their arms. Generations of bad blood took precedence. Both sides were yelling at each other. Yells that ranged from wordless screams of rage to calls for vengeance for fallen comrades, to shouted declarations calling into question the legitimacy of their opponents birth were exchanged. The situation quickly reached its boiling point, and one shot was fired from a Red Skull combatant. The red energy bolt erupted from the blaster rifle and flashed on its way to its target. It was passed by ten answering bolts of blue energy heading the other way as the Retter forces returned fire.

Then, without warning, the world stopped. The first energy bolt froze in mid-air and then just stayed there. The answering blue bolts also stopped and stayed hanging several feet above the dirt floor of the arena. Not one blaster bolt from either side travelled further than 20 feet before they just stopped, hanging in the air like a Wookie Lifeday decoration. Both sides fired again, and dozens of blasts of energy travelled across the divide between the two forces and then just stopped. An angry buzzing noise zapped and sizzled as the bolts of energy struggled against the unseen force that prevented them from completing their journey. All attempts to fire quickly ceased.

In the middle of the arena stood Toma Kendet. His face was a stoic mask of concentration. His hands were extended out to either side of him, making him look like he was stopping traffic to let school children cross. Everyone, audience and combatant alike, stared at Kendet. They then turned their gaze to the bolts of energy that were clearly struggling to keep flying forward. Then back to the master Jedi who was calmly violating at least two known laws of physics. Weapons lowered to the ground as everyone stared in awe at this show of power.

One person in the audience broke into a run for the exit. This triggered the remaining crowd to exit the stands, many of them losing all composure and stampeding out! Everyone on the arena floor who was in the path of one of the deadly bolts of energy slowly shifted out of the line of fire. No one wanted to trust that the Jedi could hold all of the shots back indefinitely, nor that he would. Once everyone was out of the direct line of fire, Toma released the bolts of energy! They leapt past their intended targets to explode against the walls in a shower of sparks! All of the combatants stood without speaking, not sure of what they were supposed to do now. This was definitely outside of the scope of their training.

"Always knew how to make an entrance, didn't you?" Master Amani asked Toma. Toma Kendet did not answer. He was staring up at the platform above. Jabari Retter still stood at the railing, looking down in disbelief.

The crime lord shot a nervous glance to where his bodyguard had been standing, but Keyon Hayley had suddenly remembered an appointment he was dreadfully late for and was nowhere in sight. Jabari looked back down to where the Jedi Master was still glaring at him.

"Jabari Retter!" Master Kendet called out. "I wish to have a word with you!"

* * *

Jabari Retter sat at his seat at the conference table. He was waiting for the other participants to arrive. It was quite disconcerting, dealing with these Jedi, he thought. He was a kingpin in his trade, a leader in his community, and the wealthiest man he personally knew. One encounter with a Jedi and he felt like he was an errant schoolboy waiting outside the schoolmaster's office to be disciplined. Jedi Master Toma Kendet sat at the other end of the conference table with his arms crossed, staring at Jabari. Two schoolmasters, actually. That Iridonian Zabrak Jedi was staring at him, too.

That was even worse, Jabari though. The man just looked like a devil with those horns and tattoos, and the glare that spoke of all the things he'd like to do to take revenge if he just let slip his control a little. He still felt justified in imprisoning the Jedi Master. He had been caught red-handed rummaging through private files. Surely he had some rights to privacy in his own home, didn't he? It was not likely the Jedi would see it that way, he thought.

Then there was the boy. He stood at parade rest beside the Zabrak. That boy had somehow passed into his fortress-like a ghost. He had watched that same small boy jump 20 feet in the air as if it were nothing. The same small boy he had sentenced to death.

Jabari looked up as the conference room door slid open. To his shock and anger, Nic Strul walked in. The red chevron tattooed on his shaved head was outlined in gold, showing all who saw him that he was the head of his clan. Xeth Strul, Nic's son, accompanied him.

"Must I sit at the same table as the scum that took my daughter?" Jabari snapped at the Jedi. As soon as the words left his lips, his daughter Jaszu walked in. Her beautiful hair had not been shaved, as he had feared when the heathens took her, and she looked as if she had been treated well.

"Jaszu!" he cried out as he rose from the table. He ran to her and held her in his arms. "Are you alright, my jewel?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Papa," she answered.

"You see?" said Nic Strul, "She's fine. Just as I told you." His voice was low and sounded like he was talking through a mouthful of gravel. Nic looked at Jabari with a critical eye. "You're not looking healthy, Jabi," he noted. "You should take better care of yourself."

"How can I when you go stealing my only daughter!" Jabari accused.

"Stealing?" Nic asked, with a look of complete innocence on his face. "That's a pretty powerful accusation, Jabi," he said. His voice sounded extremely disappointed.

"Scrap it, Nicky," Jabari snapped. "I know you took her, just as I know you want something to give her back. Name your terms!"

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," Nic countered. "We didn't take her. She came to us. Of her own free will, no less."

Harry, watching the back and forth between the two clan leaders did a quick visual scan of Jaszu Retter. She was a short, attractive girl with long black hair. Her violet eyes were quite striking, and very nearly glowed with their own light. It was those eyes he saw dart over to Xeth, Nic Strul's son. Glancing over to the young man, Harry saw an anguished expression on his face for a moment, before the gangster prince schooled it back to one of indifference.

"She would never!" denied Jabari. "She has been warned since birth to stay clear of the likes of you traitors!"

"There you go again," sighed Nic. "There was a betrayal between your family and mine, Jabi, but it wasn't us that did the betraying. It was your grandfather who negotiated the contract with SyntheTech, and your grandfather who left us holding the bag when he skipped off with the shipment."

"We lost everything that day!" yelled Jabari.

"And you think we didn't?" Nic returned. "SyntheTech wanted their shipment, and he had provided them falsified shipping transfers that said we had it," he accused.

Toma closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath.

"I think we can all see that there is a history of bad behaviour, likely on both families parts," the Jedi Master said. "It happened two generations ago, and it is time you both moved on."

"May I ask a question?" asked Harry "Jaszu, did you run away, or were you taken?" The Padawan had listened to all of the bickerings between the grown men as he was going to and felt like cutting down to the meat of the issue.

Jaszu looked scared to be asked so directly, but glanced again at Xeth and steeled herself for the outburst she knew would be coming from her father.

"I was not kidnapped," she answered.

"There, you see?" said Nic. "She came to us of her own free will, and that is totally legal."

"Jaszu?" Jabari said with a stricken look on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Xeth," Harry called to the young man. Xeth, like his father, had a red chevron tattooed on his shaven head, but his was surrounded by a silver band, indicating that he was the heir apparent.

"Yes?" Xeth started. While the shaved head and tattoos made him look like a tribal prince, he didn't command the presence that his father did. He sounded very young.

"How long have you been in love with her," Harry asked.

After the yelling died down from both parties, where each clan leader denied that their progeny could possibly be involved with the other, Xeth was finally able to answer.

"About three years," he said. The arguing suddenly stopped as both men stared at the young man in disbelief.

"What is this?" growled Nic. "You said you were just friends with the girl."

"I wanted to tell you," Xeth exclaimed, "but I knew you wouldn't listen."

"This is your mother's fault, I swear it," grumbled Nic. "She poured all that 'romance' syrup down your throat when you were a lad, and you've been soft on it ever since."

"Listen, Father," Xeno said. "We used to be legit. We used to be respectable. You used to be able to walk down the street, and people would shake your hand and thank you for the good you did to the community. You and Grandfather. I want that again."

"We can't have that anymore," yelled Nic, "and that girl is part of the reason why!"

"She wasn't even born when that happened, Father," Xeth retorted, "and neither was I!" Xeth looked down at his lap for a moment, considering if he should continue.

"What?" his father asked. "What is it?"

"I got an opportunity," Xeth said, softly.

"On what?" Nic asked. "If you're going to tell me you're gambling now..."

"No, it's not like that!" Xeth protested. "It's a legit business. I got word that TerraTech is planning on renovating a lot of the older housing stacks in the Western Province. They're going to need storage space and warehousing in this area."

"So?" said Nic. "You don't have a warehouse."

"I can get one," Xeth said. "When old Luc Tikov died, the textile plant he ran went out of business. It was going out of business anyway, but the whole company collapsed when he died. It's empty, all the machinery was liquidated. It's owned by his old lady, but she's got no use for it."

Nic looked thoughtful at this news.

"Under the housing renewal act," Xeth continued, "all abandoned or unused buildings of that size will be seized when TerraTech starts work next month. They'll be able to claim it under eminent domain and use it for free. If I buy it from old lady Tivok and set up a workforce, I'll be in the prime location for providing warehousing and cheap labour to TerraTech and make a fortune."

"How much does she want for the building?" Nic asked.

"30 peggats," Xeth answered.

"If you two are finished doing your business in my house," snarked Jabari, "you can tell me what any of this has to do with my daughter."

"We're going to get married, Papa," Jazsu said. "I can help him with the accounting part of the business, he can handle the labour and equipment. We'll be together, and we'll be a family."

What followed could only be described as a shotgun wedding. At Toma's suggestion, Jabari was convinced to provide 40 peggats to Xeth as a bride price for Jazsu. Jabari also demanded a fifty per cent share of the warehousing business as the money would go towards the business startup costs. Harry and Xeth were able to talk him down to twenty per cent.

For his part, Nic insisted on paying an additional 40 peggats to the couple as a down payment on twenty per cent of the business for himself, as well. After Xeth paid the 30 peggats for the building, that left plenty for equipment, labour, and some hasty renovations on the facility.

What had started as the continuation of a blood feud had very nearly escalated to a massacre. That the Jedi, who had been threatened with death in an arena, were then able to negotiate the situation into a marriage and profitable joint business venture for all sides was nothing short of amazing to the family heads. The wedding took place that very afternoon on the floor of their new warehouse.

* * *

"You did well today, Harry," Toma said.

"Thank you, Master," Harry acknowledged. He was sitting at the mess hall table on the transport ship taking them back to Coruscant. The Jedi had not stayed after the wedding.

"I hope Xeth is able to keep that business on the legitimate side of the law," Harry said. "It'll be hard with both his father and his father-in-law being involved."

"Yes, it will," said Toma. He looked over his Padawan with a trained eye. "Harry, I know you are bothered by what you did in the arena. I'd like to talk to you about it."

"I keep seeing their faces every time I close my eyes," said Harry in a hoarse whisper. "I keep seeing that one with the net. I know I'm going to dream about them."

"It was not your fault, Harry," Toma said, comfortingly. "You did what you had to do to survive in a very dangerous place."

Harry looked down and closed his eyes. He had been involved in fights on missions in the past, of course, but save for hitting Yaxley with the reflected killing curse on Christmas, it had never escalated to deadly force before.

"Let us meditate on this," Toma said. "I want you to begin by clearing your mind."

The Jedi were not only diplomats and ambassadors, but they were also warriors. Taking life in the line of duty was, unfortunately, a requirement in the life of a Jedi. They were often assigned to the worst areas in the galaxy. They had, over the many years of their order, come up with strategies for helping those who had taken a life.

It was a well-honed system and employed a psychological understanding of the specific Jedi it was targeted to. Toma had Harry write a report detailing every aspect of his mission, and paying special attention to the combat he was involved in. This not only informed the Jedi Council of exactly what had happened, but it allowed Harry to get it all out of his consciousness. This was intended to help keep him from replaying the incidents in his head, over and over. With the help of the Jedi Medical Corps, he would soon be alright.

* * *

_A/N - Thus begins Part 2 in my crossover take on Harry Potter and Star Wars. This will cover Harry's second year at Hogwarts._


	2. Chapter 2

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

In a palatial mansion in Wiltshire, England, a lavish dinner was being prepared. The small creatures with large, expressive eyes and very long ears that were scurrying about in the enormous kitchen were house-elves. Some of them were carrying platters heaping with appetizers. One was setting wine flutes on trays and filling them with the finest champagne. Several of them were working speedily at the stoves, roasting ducks, turkeys, potatoes, and even a whole pig.

A feast was in the making, and they had been directed by Master to ensure that everything was perfect, under pain of punishment. The house-elves took pride in their work, and would have ensured they did their best without threats, but their master was a cruel man with more time and money at his disposal than he could spend.

Every house-elf that belonged to the family wore only a tea towel. The slightest mishap would be punished most severely. Each of them bore the marks of Master’s displeasure. Some of them had bandages around their fingers from being forced to iron their hands. Many were bruised from being ordered to beat themselves on the head with any manner of blunt objects. They did not complain about it. Work was to be done, and it was Master's right to punish them if they didn't do it well enough. All understood this.

All but one. Dobby was different from the others. He had been singled out time and time again. The Master's young son took great pleasure in watching Dobby punish himself. From morning until night, Dobby was constantly being called by Young Master to be punished for whatever imagined error Young Master could dream up. Young Master never called for any other house-elf but Dobby.

After many years of this, Dobby began to have the most unhouse-elfish thoughts a house-elf could think. Thoughts of freedom. Thoughts of escape. Dobby was, at first, properly ashamed of these forbidden desires, and buried them deep in his mind. As time went by, however, he began to think more and more of being free from Master and Young Master.

Mistress wasn't so bad, according to the tortured mind of Dobby. She mostly just ignored the house-elves, and if she noticed Dobby at all it was to register disgust. She never ordered him to poke himself in the eyes with a quill, or even to just close his fingers in a door.

Finally, Young Master went to school. It was like a vacation for Dobby. There were just as many chores to do as there were when Young Master was about, but Dobby could at least get the upper windows cleaned without Young Master ordering him to dirty them again so he'd have to clean them all over.

Young Master was home from school now, though and was taking extra care to remind Dobby to do extra punishments to make up for the lack of punishments while Young Master was at school. This fueled Dobby's desire for escape. It seemed to Dobby that Young Master just might be trying to see how much an elf could take before Dobby broke.

Dobby had this thought while he was pouring the wine into the champagne flutes. This was the most awfully disloyal thought he had ever had, and he shuddered so badly in disgust at himself that he spilled a drop of the champagne he was pouring onto the tray instead of into the flute. One, single drop. The big wet spot stood out on the white cloth tray cover. Dobby cleaned and dried the spot with the wave of his finger.

Snippy, the head kitchen manager, saw it. Snippy was a proper house-elf that was almost never getting punished. He ruled the kitchen, and was in charge of and responsible for all food that was prepared in the manor. A single drop of spilt wine was as much as an ocean for Snippy.

"Dobby!" Snippy said. "You is not to be spilling! If you is spilling, then you be needing more practice! Master is needing his pre-party libations. Prepare for Master his brandy in his office at once, and don't you dare spill a drop!"

Dobby's ears drooped. No one wanted that job. Most times nothing bad happened. The drink was delivered, the house-elf slipped out of the office, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. On other days, though, Master was in a bad mood. He came up with much better punishments than Young Master.

"Yes, Snippy," Dobby squeaked. "Dobby won't be spilling even one drop!"

He took the brandy and poured a measure into a snifter, making sure his hands were steady. He made sure it was stable on his tray and popped to just outside Master's study. He did not pop into the study. No elf did. Tales were still told about what had happened to the one elf that had. Not all the pieces of that elf had been found.

Dobby softly knocked on the office door.

"Enter," a silky voice answered.

Dobby opened the door and gingerly approached the desk, where the Master was sitting, writing a letter.

"Master's Pre-Party brandy is here, Great Master," Dobby said with a bow.

"Thank you, Dobby," acknowledged Master. "Place it on the blotter, please."

"Yes, Master," Dobby said.

Dobby placed the drink on the desk blotter. As he did so, he noticed a small, dark book. His fingers brushed against it as he placed the snifter of brandy down. Shivers ran up and down Dobby's spine, and his fingers felt contaminated where they had barely touched the book.

Master paused in his writing, sensing something was amiss.

"That will be all, Dobby," he said, dismissing the elf.

"Yes, Master" said Dobby with another bow.

He backed out of the room, still bowing, but unable to keep his eyes off of the book. Dobby had the strangest sense that the book was watching him.

He had almost made it out of the office when Master stopped him again.

"Wait, Dobby," he commanded.

Dobby froze. He turned back with some trepidation.

"Y. Y. Yes, Master?" he stammered.

"I need you to make a delivery for me, Dobby," Master said.

He waved his wand over the small, black book, wrapping it as a gift and handing it to Dobby. He felt the evil of it wash over him as soon as it passed into his hands. It felt like the book was searching his every memory. It felt alive. It felt… amused.

Master gave Dobby strict instructions on whom to leave the book with, and to avoid being seen.

"Yes, Master," Dobby acknowledged.

He popped to the targets house, and used some house elf magic to determine which rooms were occupied and which were not.

He popped into the room he was told to by Master. Under the pillow on the only bed in the room, Dobby left the small, gift-wrapped book. He popped back to just outside of Master's office. He knocked and was granted admission again. He reported his success to Master and was dismissed. Dobby popped to a loo and washed his hands for several minutes. He couldn't see that they were any cleaner, but he felt totally contaminated until he did.

Returning to the kitchen, Dobby saw that he had left the office door slightly ajar. He stood by it, debating with himself what to do. One of the cardinal rules of the house was that Master's office door remained shut at all times.

If he shut the door now, Master would hear, and Dobby would be subjected to the most horrible of punishments.

If he left the door alone, Master would know Dobby hadn't shut it as Dobby was supposed to. Hadn't Dobby shut the door, though? He was sure that he had. He decided to look at the door closer and see if the catch was broken.

Dobby tiptoed up to the door and was examining the catch when he overheard Master. Master was floo-calling someone, and Dobby could hear Master's side of the conversation.

"Yes, I've gotten rid of it."

"No, I didn't sell it."

"Yes, I am sure."

"No."

"Because, if that Muggle loving fool Arthur Weasley and his raids were to find it… well, I highly doubt they would be sympathetic in light of my earlier claims."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I now know a little of what that book can do. I've been examining it for years, and all that time I never knew I had the power to bring our lord back whenever I wished. With it now deployed, the recipient will begin the process. The Chamber of Secrets will be opened again. It won't just be one mudblood girl who dies this time. With this, I can bring down Dumbledore. Who better, to take his place than I? With me in charge, I can make sure they all get exactly what they deserve. And as for Potter, well, he'll wish he never came back!"

Dobby threw his hands to his mouth to keep a gasp of horror from slipping out. Master was plotting something most foul! Dobby was eavesdropping! The two horrors collided in Dobby's mind and he popped straight into the cubbyhole in the attic he called home.

Even the lowly house-elves had heard of the Great Harry Potter. When the young boy had defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the lives of all House-elves were suddenly elevated.

Of course, for those like Dobby, there wasn't much change, but Dobby had family serving other old houses, and Dobby could see how their lives were much better. Dobby came to a conclusion he would never have been able to if not for the constant abuse that had finally gotten him to question the way things were.

Dobby must help to save the children at Hogwarts! Dobby must save Harry Potter!

But first, Dobby must pass out wine to Master's guests.

Harry Potter stood in the center of the Council room. He was standing beside Master Toma and Master Amani as they gave their report to the Council on the events on Nar Shaddaa.

"We find it highly unlikely," said one member of the Council, "that there was any method by which you could have both extracted Master Amani and avoided combat. Even with that remarkable cloak of yours, there was a good chance you were going to be confronted."

Harry nodded, but looked down at the floor and took some deep breaths for a few seconds before he could meet the Council members in the eye again.

"Done well, you have," Grand Master Yoda said. "With the former opponents joined now in business and blood, many lives that would have once been lost can now be saved. Placed in this situation, you were. At fault, you were not."

"I understand, Master," Harry said.

"In time," responded Yoda, "you will."

"Are you prepared to return to Earth?" asked Cahaya Bersinar. The female Jedi Master was a Mirialan, and was a frequent visitor to Master Toma and Harry. She had always provided a supportive role for Harry. Until he had visited the Grangers for Christmas, he would not have been able to say what Master Cahaya was to him. Seeing how Mrs. Granger acted towards him had granted him some understanding. He could now say she was quite motherly towards him, and he appreciated her more for it.

"Yes, Master," answered Harry. "My summer assignments are all completed, and our flight plans have been filed. We leave in one week."

A Twi'lek Master named Gendut Merengus spoke next. He was constantly at odds with Master Toma, and was as close to an enemy within the Jedi as Harry had. Master Merengus was the main opposition to Harry becoming a Jedi. In a contradictory twist, he was also the main voice arguing against Harry returning to Earth nearly ten years later.

"There has been much discussion on the meaning of this prophecy you have told us," he said. "Some of us are very concerned. A child of prophecy, wielding a red lightsaber? There has been some... talk amongst your peers."

"Ahhh..." interjected Yoda. "Constructive, talking is. Unhelpful, though, is talking without substance. Without truth. Without understanding." The Jedi Grand Master fixed Master Merengus with a stern look before he continued.

"A tool a lightsaber is," Yoda said. "Through the Force, tuned between tool and wielder it is. Insignificant, is the color."

"The Sith are well known for wielding red lightsabers," the Twilek insisted.

"Presented this lightsaber to the Padawan, I did," said Yoda, his tone clearly indicating that he was closing this argument down. "Examined it, I have. A fusion of two natural crystals lies at its heart. A Sith wields a blade of unnatural origin."

"Still," Master Merengus said, "the perception of the red blade of his lightsaber may cause division and controversy." He took on a tone of compromise, trying to get Yoda to back down. "Perhaps," Merengus suggested, "it's color can be adjusted to prevent some of the more... enthusiastic members of our order from taking it up as a cause."

"Ahhh," said Yoda, with a chuckle. "On Harry Potter's world, I have stayed. In public, though, I can not go undisguised. Green, am I, and small. To them, out of place would I be."

"They are that primitive?" Master Merengus asked contemptuously.

"Young, they are," corrected Yoda, "not yet have they joined their voices with the choir of the galaxy. While on Earth, easy being green, it is not," said Yoda. "Alter who I am, should I, to ease their minds? Hmmm?"

"Of course not, Master Yoda", said Merengus, realizing that he was going to win no concessions here. "My apologies."

In a suburb of London called Hampstead, Hermione Granger was placing all of her books in boxes. Six large cardboard boxes were stacked two high by the door to her room. She was placing the last books from her bookshelves in the seventh when Daniel Granger popped his head in.

"Just about finished, Pumpkin?" her father asked. He had work gloves and a back brace on, and had just finished putting all the boxes from the guest room into the moving van. The Grangers had decided that the bad guys knowing where they lived was not a situation that they could live with any longer. It had taken a while for them to get all the paperwork in order and to arrange a buyer for the house, but the deal had finally gone through. They were moving to a larger home in a nicer neighborhood, with easier access to the Grangers dental practice.

"Just about, Dad," Hermione answered. "Though I can't wait until I'm seventeen. This would have been a lot easier if I could use magic."

"No kidding," her father said. He bent over to test the weight of one of the boxes.

"Ooof!" he exclaimed. "I'm not sure if this is going to work, sweetie," he said. "You've got so many books in here that I don't know how we're going to get them to the van."

"I got them to the door," Hermione answered, "they're not that heavy."

"I think," her father said, "that you underestimate just how many books you have in here."

"I know exactly..." Hermione's answer was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

"Mr. Dumbledore," greeted Emma Granger. She had been packing the kitchen, and welcomed the break. "Please come in."

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger," Albus Dumbledore replied, and entered the house. He was wearing a light grey suit that was embellished with muted silver patterns of thread decorating the lapels. Even while dressed as a Muggle he had a preference for unusual clothing.

"How can we help you?" Emma asked.

"With your permission," Dumbledore answered, "I would like to speak with your daughter regarding her friend, Harry Potter."

"Of course," Emma responded. She called for Hermione to come down. "I hope everything is alright?" she asked as Hermione ran lightly down the steps, followed by her father.

"I have no reason to suspect otherwise," Dumbledore answered. "I do apologize, though, I seem to have interrupted your packing. I see that you have decided to move."

"Yes," answered Daniel. "After the events of last Christmas, we don't think it's wise that we remain in a house the Death Eaters know about."

"A most intelligent decision," agreed Dumbledore. "I trust you are remaining in Britain, though?"

"Yes," answered Emma. "We're moving just a few miles away, in fact."

"Splendid," Dumbledore said. He turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, I do apologize for interrupting your summer vacation, but I have a problem you may be able to help me with."

"Of course, Headmaster," Hermione answered, puzzled.

"When term ended, I asked Mr. Potter to leave a method of contacting him should the need arise. He gave me the most remarkable device, which he called a Holocube."

"Yes," said Hermione, "he left me one as well."

"I was hoping that he had," Dumbledore said. "You see, while I have not had cause to use it since he left, I do keep it in my office in case the need arises. I am afraid, however, that it has gone missing."

"How could it have gone missing, Headmaster?" Hermione asked. "I thought no one could enter your office but you?"

"Very astute, Miss Granger," Dumbledore praised. " In fact, there is a short list of people with access to my office outside of myself, but I trust each of them implicitly. The only unknowns would be the cleaning staff. However, for a house elf to disturb or remove an item from their Master's home, in this case Hogwarts, would be so far out of character as to be unbelievable."

"House elf?" Hermione asked.

"Ahh. Most fascinating beings. Allow me to introduce you to one. Pokey?" Dumbledore called. With a pop, a small female creature with very large eyes and ears appeared in the Granger home. She was wearing what appeared to be a pillowcase with the Hogwarts logo embroidered on it.

"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore?" Pokey inquired.

"These are the Grangers, Pokey," Dumbledore introduced. The house elf bowed so low her nose brushed the carpet.

"It is being the greatest honor meeting you, Grangers," the elf squeaked. Emma Granger, shocked at the sudden appearance of a house elf in her living room, recovered quickly and invited Dumbledore and Pokey to tea.

"We would be delighted," accepted Dumbledore. "First, however, I wonder if you would be so kind as to retrieve your Holocube, Miss Granger. I would very much like to send Mr. Potter a message and ensure that he is quite alright."

"Of course, one moment," Hermione answered, and rushed up the stairs to get it. It should have taken only a moment, but nearly ten minutes passed, punctuated by shuffling, stomping, and muffled grumbling from upstairs, before she finally returned.

"I don't understand," she said, walking down the stairs. Her anguished voice betrayed her suspicion that something was dreadfully wrong. "It was on my nightstand this morning, but now I can't find it!"

"Did you pack it already?" her mother asked.

"No," answered Hermione. "I wasn't going to pack it, I was going to carry it with me. Harry had left me a message on it, and I was saving it to play after I'd finished packing. I just went through all the boxes I've packed so far to be sure I didn't accidentally pack it, but it wasn't in them." A tear fell from her eye and she wiped it away.

"If I may," Dumbledore said, pulling his wand out. "Accio Holocube!" For a long moment they all waited. Dumbledore frowned.

"What did that do?" asked Dan Granger.

"It was the Summoning Spell," answered a sniffling Hermione.

"Indeed," agreed Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, it does not appear to have worked. If the Holocube were anywhere in this house, it should have come. Have you taken any parcels to your new home yet?" the headmaster asked.

"No," answered Dan. "We've just started to pack, we haven't taken anything there yet."

"I believe," stated Dumbledore in a more serious tone of voice, "that under the circumstances it would be wise to expedite your departure. I hope you don't mind."

Dumbledore raised his wand again and swiftly slashed it through the air. Everything in the house, from houseplants to dishes, flew from where it was stored and neatly fit themselves into the waiting boxes. The boxes then closed themselves, shrunk to the size of a shoebox, and rose into the air to file their way out of the house and stack themselves in the moving van. In less than a minute the house was as bare as the day it was built.

"I took the liberty," Dumbledore said, "of shrinking down the boxes. When you are unpacking, just open the box and it will return to its normal size. Please be sure not to do so in front of neighbors or friends who do not already know about magic."

"Thank you!" exclaimed the Grangers.

"You are quite welcome," said Dumbledore. "I thought it prudent as you now need take only one trip. I also think it would be beneficial if I were to ward your new home, and even your place of employment."

"Ward?" asked Dan.

"A ward is something very much like a shield, or barrier. An anti- fire ward would prevent a home from being set on fire, for example. An anti-apparition ward would prevent someone from apparating or disapparating into or in the vicinity of your home. Those are several of the wards I plan to place on your new home." He thought for a few moments. "In fact, I believe it would be a good idea to ward this home as well. You may not be living here any longer, but someone will. I would hate anyone to be harmed if the Death Eaters do come to call."

Dumbledore took out his wand and began to move it in complicated patterns. The tip glowed white and traces of the wand's movement could be seen as a ghostly afterimage resembling writing in the air, but no words could be made out.

"How bad is it?" asked Emma.

"I do not know," answered Dumbledore, continuing to lay ward after ward down. "It is possible, of course, that this is just a case of misplaced items. There could be a perfectly benign answer to this riddle."

"You don't think so, though," stated Dan.

"No, I do not," answered Dumbledore, finishing his spellcraft and returning his wand to his robes. "Both Holocubes going missing simultaneously, effectively cutting off all communication to and from Harry Potter? That is highly unlikely. Even less so when you factor in how much the Holocube obviously means to your daughter, and therefore how much care she would take of it." He shook his head. "No, I believe that there is something amiss, and I also believe it is better to be safe than sorry. Also, as you are aware, your home is known to the enemy. It is certainly possible that they may find your new house as well. The wards will give you protection. They will not stop a determined attack, but they should at least provide you with a window for escape, should the worst occur."

"I thought that wards were done with runes, Headmaster," Hermione commented.

"Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, quite pleased. "In fact, they generally are, and in this case soon will be. What you saw me do just now was temporary, intended to last only until I return with some wardstones."

"You can give points when school is not in session?" asked Dan, amused.

"Well, I am the Headmaster, am I not?" responded Dumbledore. "The point count is closely scrutinized by certain parties at Hogwarts, both student and staff. While your daughter most certainly earned those points just now by submitting an accurate observation of a subject she has no formal instruction in, I will admit that it also amuses me to introduce a bit of chaos to stir things up. Imagine how puzzled they will be when they see Gryffindor has five points before any students even arrive." Dumbledore smiled for a moment. "Now, I have a housewarming present for each of you."

Dumbledore provided all three Grangers with necklaces he had turned into emergency Portkeys. All they would have to do would be for one of them to say the phrase 'milk tart' three times in a row and all three Portkeys would activate wherever they were and take them directly to Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.

"I caution you that creating and owning privately made Portkeys is not, strictly speaking, legal," Dumbledore cautioned the family. "It's a grey area at best, to be honest, so I would appreciate your discretion. More importantly, though, do not let doubt cause you to hesitate to use them. If any of you think you are in danger, use the Portkey. We can deal with the ramifications if it comes to pass. We cannot bring you back from the dead should you fail to escape."

Harry Potter was standing on the balcony of the quarters he shared with Toma Kendet. He was staring at the Holocube he was holding in his hand. It had been over a week since he had sent Hermione a message, and she hadn't answered. He confirmed that it had gone through, but it had not been read. He heard Toma come up from behind him.

"Is something troubling you, Harry?" Toma asked.

"Hermione isn't answering the latest messages I left on her Holocube," Harry answered. "The cube has received the messages. I've confirmed that by delivery receipt code, but they're not being read."

"You mentioned they were moving to a new home," Toma theorized. "The Holocube may have been packed and she hasn't been able to unpack it yet."

"It's not likely," Harry decided. "We've been exchanging messages every couple of days, and it's not like her to miss one."

"What are the possible answers to this puzzle?" Toma questioned.

"She lost it. It was stolen. She's injured, or otherwise incapacitated. She's getting the messages but is angry at me for some reason and is refusing to read it," Harry answered immediately.

"Let us go through each of the possibilities and see if we can make sense of this riddle," Toma suggested.

"I know she's not mad at me," Harry said.

"How can you be sure?" inquired Toma.

"When Hermione gets mad, she doesn't stay quiet about it," Harry answered. "My Holo would be filled with what she had to say." He continued to ponder.

"I doubt that she's lost it," Harry said, "Hermione is the most organized person I know. I also doubt she's been injured."

"How did you determine that?" asked Toma, testing him.

"Her parents would use the cube to contact me if she were, I would hope," he answered. "They know we've been exchanging messages, and I know she's taught them how to use it. I received a message from her Mum and Dad on my birthday. That only leaves one logical option."

"It must have been stolen," Toma agreed.

"Perhaps we should go back early," suggested Harry.

"The only scheduled transport heading to that part of the galaxy in the next few weeks is the one we are already booked on," Toma answered. "I'm afraid it will take something much more concrete than a missing Holocube to the convince the Council it should expend the resources to get you there a day earlier."

"I hope she's alright," Harry said. "I have a bad feeling about this. I wish there was some way I could see that she is safe."

"Close your eyes," Toma instructed.

Harry did so.

"Find your center."

Harry floated in a sea of darkness.

"Let the Force flow through you."

A beautiful blue green planet appeared in the void.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," Toma said.

Harry descended into the atmosphere.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."

Harry flew over farmlands and pastures, approaching a large city.

"There is no passion, there is serenity."

Flying through the streets on the edges of the city, Harry approached a group of houses. One of them was very familiar.

"There is no chaos, there is harmony."

Slowing to a stop in front of the Granger house, Harry saw Hermione. She was standing in the front yard, looking up at the sky. Her dress billowed around her legs in the breeze. Harry knew she was looking for him. Her mother was getting into a large, box shaped truck that was parked in the driveway. Her father was calling to Hermione to join them. The scene was so real that Harry could smell the freshly mown lawn. He reached out with his feelings and touched her cheek. Hermione put her hand to the side of her face and he felt the warmth of her hand as it touched his.

"Harry," Hermione said in recognition. She smiled, and he knew that she was alright.

"There is no death, there is the Force."  
  



	3. Chapter 3

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Dobby lay in his cubbyhole, hyperventilating with nervousness. He was a thieving house-elf. He had taken things that had not belonged to him. This was nearly a mortal sin for a house-elf. He had no choice, though. He had to keep Harry Potter away from Hogwarts any way he could. He held a pulsing, blue cube in each hand and was guiltily going over and over in his head how he had obtained them.

His plan was weak, he knew. He thought that just maybe if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him, he might not want to come back to school. He had been on the lookout for any owls trying to reach Harry Potter, but he was only able to intercept his Hogwarts book list.

He had looked everywhere for Harry Potter to try and warn him, but he wasn't anywhere Dobby could pop to. He had sneaked into Harry Potter's friends houses and tried to find any letters that could give him a clue. That's when he saw the young witch Young Master called "the know-it-all mudblood" watching a small image of Harry Potter coming from a small, blue cube. As he watched, she then spoke to the cube, and he realized that this was why there were no owls. The cube was how he was communicating with his friends.

He was quite frustrated by her attention to the cube. The girl never seemed to leave it alone. She even slept with it in her hand. It took a few days before she was distracted enough by packing books that he could take it from her nightstand. He didn't like to think of stealing, but if he had to, he would in order to save Harry Potter.

Dobby only had the cube in his hand for a moment before considering who else Harry Potter might give a cube to. He knew from Young Masters ranting that the young Longbottom boy was a good candidate. He searched the boy's room at Longbottom Manor as thoroughly as he could without risking discovery, but failed to find one. Then, in a stroke of luck, he overheard the Longbottom boy discussing his upcoming year at Hogwarts with his Grandmother. Dobby was relieved to hear him say he wished he knew how Harry Potter was doing. If he had a cube, he'd know.

The only other places he could think of with reason to contact Harry Potter and the need for quick communications was Gringotts and Hogwarts. Dobby was not stupid enough to try and search Gringotts. Goblins didn't use house-elves, so he would be noticed immediately. Goblins also took a very dim view of stealing, and were not the sort to listen to excuses or to make exceptions. Hogwarts, on the other hand, wouldn't notice him at all. With over a hundred elves, one more wouldn't be seen as anything unusual.

Searching the head of Gryffindor's office turned up nothing. The only other one he could think of who might have a cube was Dumbledore. That's where he very nearly got caught. Dumbledore's phoenix didn't see the house/elf, but detected his presence anyway. The bird also noted the disappearance of the cube, and flashed away as soon as Dobby took it.

Dobby was quick, but the phoenix was quicker. Dobby was just about to pop out again when the fire bird was back with the Headmaster. It didn't take Dumbledore long to see that the cube was missing. Dobby, shivering in his cubbyhole at home, trembled again at how angry the Headmaster had gotten when he saw it was missing.

Like a summer thunderstorm, Dumbledore's anger was both fierce and short lived. The veil of his doddering grandfather figure was only out of place for a moment before the old man got control of himself. For that instant, though, Dobby was more terrified of the Headmaster of Hogwarts than he was of his own Master. Since Master had a habit of dismembering house-elves who displeased him, that was saying something.

Dumbledore hadn't yelled, and he hadn't smashed anything. He just stood there, staring at the spot where the cube had been. A wind suddenly blew around his office like a dust devil, swirling papers off of his desk and sending everything small fluttering about. A light shown in his eyes that spoke of a fury unleashed. Then, it was all back to normal.

That was when Dobby, who was invisibly cowering in a corner, made his escape. He had only just gotten away, but he didn't think Dumbledore had seen him. Dobby was still terrified two weeks later, shivering and waiting in fear that Dumbledore would find out that a thieving house-elf had taken his cube. The guilt of the thefts was gnawing at Dobby's mind. He left his cubbyhole only for work and food. He punished himself constantly, even without having to be reminded. Young Master had never looked so pleased with him before.

Hermione Granger was in Flourish and Blotts getting her books for the upcoming school year when she got her first look at her new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. When she received her book list, she was ecstatic to find that there were seven books listed for the course. Her parents were far less enthused to find they had to pay for seven books for one class.

"Isn't this the class that's supposed to be cursed?" asked her father.

"It was," answered Hermione, emphasizing the past tense, "Dumbledore said it last year, the curse is now broken."

"That doesn't explain seven books," added her mother.

"The new professor probably wants to get us caught up," replied Hermione, "seeing how there hasn't been a proper professor in so long."

"What's up with these titles?" asked her father. "Year with the Yeti? Wandering with Werewolves?"

"Things can be strange in the magical world," answered Hermione.

Then came the actual shopping day. Hermione had hoped that Harry would be back by then, but wasn't surprised that he wasn't. She knew his scheduled arrival wasn't until the day before their return to Hogwarts, and her parents wouldn't let her wait to get prepared.

It was a busy day in Diagon Alley, with most of the students and parents shopping on that day. It had been a mad house inside the bookstore, with Gilderoy Lockhart doing the book signing. As it turned out, it was Lockhart himself that was to be her new professor. All the witches in the shop were quite enamorred with the good looking wizard, and Hermione had gotten caught up in admiring him, too. Not even the Weasleys getting into a scuffle with the Malfoys had distracted her from getting some extra good parchment that she earmarked for Defense classes.

Hermione's enthusiasm for her new professor lasted until they were halfway back to the new house. Hermione was skimming through her new books in the car, and came to a startling discovery.

"Ummm," she said, "these aren't textbooks."

"What's that, Pumpkin?" her mother asked.

"These Lockhart books aren't textbooks," she repeated. She was flipping through the books rapidly, switching them out one after the other.

"What do you mean?" her father asked.

"There's not one spell description in any of these," Hermione said, her scathing tone indicating how offended she was. "No wand movements, no incantations, nothing! It's just a bunch of stories about him doing all these heroic things, but no mention of how he actually did them." Her parents, recognizing a storm on the way, tried to calm her down.

"Perhaps he saved those parts for the class," her mother suggested, weakly.

"Yeah," her father agreed, "that must be it. Why a professor would do that, I don't know, but..." His voice trailed off as he saw his daughter glaring at him in the rear view mirror.

"He had better have," Hermione muttered darkly, as she moved her nicest parchment from Defense over to her Transfiguration materials.

Dan and Emma Granger traded a look. God help this professor if he hadn't. They were both well aware that accuracy in textbooks was almost a religion to their daughter. There was a favorite story, now lovingly shared in Granger family gatherings of how a nine year old Hermione had written a textbook printing company fifteen times. She badgered them until they had finally agreed to revise a science textbook that incorrectly stated that there were only three states of matter. This Lockhart fellow had no idea what he was in for.

The Sun-Earth L3 Point was no different than any other random spot of space in the Sol system, except in one regard. It was the one place in the system where an object would be forever out of sight from Earth.

Between any two bodies in space there are 5 points of gravitational stability. Earth scientists called these Lagrange Points. Different worlds in the Galactic Republic had different names for them, but Republic pilots tended to call them parking spots. Left on their own, objects left in these areas tended to remain there, though minor corrections needed to be automatically made due to the gravitational effects of other bodies. The L3 point always existed on the opposite side of the larger of the two bodies, so it was forever hidden from direct observation from the smaller body.

At the Sun-Earth L3 Point, first one, then another spaceship suddenly appeared. They were Delta-7 Jedi Starfighters attached to removable hyperspace rings. They detached from their rings and maneuvered away. It would take them several hours to reach Earth, but leaving the rings here protected them from observation from the Earth. A third ship dropped out of hyperspace beside the two fighters. It was larger and bulkier than the sleek design of a starfighter. It was a troop transport. Larger even than the standard dropships, it could not only deploy troops, but also house them indefinitely. Each fighter took position as escort to the transport, and all three ships accelerated away and began the journey around the sun.

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, going over the paperwork for the incoming first year class. He noted that the last of Arthur and Molly's children was starting this year. He spent a moment wondering if William or Charles was going to have children soon. There was a gap coming up after Genevra graduated when there would be no Weasleys at Hogwarts. He thought about how happy that would have made Argus Filch, and his face darkened.

That was a definite black spot on Albus's judgement. It was obvious, in hindsight, how disgruntled Argus was becoming, and the very many opportunities that had been missed to help the man cope with his place in this world. That Argus has been willing, even eager, to embrace Voldemort's control in exchange for the illusion of power was incomprehensible to the Headmaster.

The trial, held over the summer break, had laid it all out in undeniable detail. Argus Filch was not a victim, but a willing participant in the abduction of Daphne Greengrass. A squib had kidnapped the heiress to one noble house and the betrothed to another. The Wizengamot sentenced Filch to life in Azkaban after only two minutes of deliberation. There was no doubt that he was guilty, nor that he deserved such punishment. Albus was concerned how much emphasis the Wizengamot was placing on Filch's status as a squib. He wouldn't change the ruling, but he would change the evidence that was presented, if he could. Guilt or innocence should be determined by physical evidence, not on the status of one's birth.

He was pondering a most peculiar riddle involving Harry Potter and the Jedi. When he had laid down the ward stones for the Granger's new home, Miss Granger reported experiencing the most peculiar sensation. She was looking up at the sky and thinking of Mr. Potter, when she could suddenly 'feel' him there with her. She was adamant that it was a true communication. He would have to consult with the Jedi when they returned to determine the accuracy of this report.

Harry Potter was scheduled to return to Earth today. Last year he had been a harbinger of change for Hogwarts. Dumbledore wondered what this year would bring.

Hedwig was a very unhappy owl. She was a bird of prey, a post owl, a majestic symbol of elegance and intelligence, a devourer of bacon, and currently a prisoner of war. At least, that's what she would say if she could speak. The large snowy owl detested her traveling cage almost as much as she despised the jumps into hyperspace. For Harry, though, she tolerated it.

She was of two minds about Coruscant. On the one hand, she had found a very tasty rodent that was considered a pest in one of the local parks. The Jedi deemed it quite safe for her to eat. The caretakers of the park were very enthusiastic about the vast reduction in their population caused by the freely hunting owl.

On the other hand, there were no other owls in that strange sky. She had to limit how high she could fly due to the odd vessels flying in constant streams of traffic. She was also restricted in how far from the Jedi temple she could go. Any number of the lower classes inhabiting the street levels would see her as prey. She was looking forward to the companionship of the other post owls at Hogwarts, and to her being freed from this cage.

Hermione was nearly finished reading her transfiguration textbook when the doorbell rang. She was sitting one on a the sofa in their new living room waiting for the arrival of Harry and Master Toma. She ran for the door, threw it open, and then was wrapped in the arms of her favorite Jedi.

"Harry," she said, not caring that his shoulder was going to get wet from tears, "I'm so sorry I never answered your message. The Holocube is missing!"

"Its ok, Hermione. We figured that's what it was, and I'll have another one for you soon."

"What about your mission," she asked, "the last I heard, Master Amani was still missing."

"The mission didn't exactly go according to plan," admitted Harry, "but we did get Master Amani back in one piece."

"What exactly," asked Emma Granger, who had just finished greeting Toma, "does 'not according to plan' mean in this context?"

"Well," answered Harry, not sure how the Grangers would take the news of him in combat, "the gentlemen holding Master Amani required a bit of... persuasion before they agreed to release him."

"Dare I ask," asked Daniel Granger, "what the Jedi version of 'persuasion' means?"

"I infiltrated an enemy stronghold," Harry said, "and in the process of freeing Master Amani we were required to fight for our lives in a gladiatorial arena."

Toma gave Harry a look that clearly said that Harry could have worded that better. Harry, who was trying to continue the rapport Dan Granger and he had established at Christmas, ignored it.

"We were winning," Harry added, "until Master Toma walked in and stopped everything."

"How did he stop the fighting?" Emma asked.

"No," Harry corrected," I mean he stopped everything. Bolts of energy hanging in midair, it was really cool."

Daniel, impressed, held his hand up, palm out towards Harry. Confused, Harry did the same. Daniel slapped their palms together, giving Harry his first ever high five.

"Boys," whispered Hermione.

Daniel Granger may have been fooled by Harry's nonchalant delivery, but Emma was not. She immediately looked him over for lingering injuries.

"How are you, Harry?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Harry answered. "Just some bumps and bruises, and they've all been healed."

"That's not what I asked," Emma said, kindly, but firmly. "How are you?" she repeated, this time putting emphasis on the 'you'.

"It's been difficult," Harry answered. "But the Jedi have an excellent support system, they've helped me."

Emma then contributed to that assistance by wrapping Harry in a hug. Sometimes, Harry thought, the simplest things worked the best.

Harry and Toma were being given a tour of the Granger's new home. As they did so, Harry explained to Hermione that the feeling she had that day that was real. He explained how Jedi meditation could sometimes show things that were happening even on distant planets. Harry couldn't guarantee that he would be able to do that anytime, but it had very much been appreciated.

Harry explained to the Grangers that he had already gone to Diagon Alley, and was able to obtain his supplies and books despite having not recieved his book list.

"It's possible it was just too far for that owl," theorized Harry. "I should talk with Headmaster Dumbledore and let him know he should send any messages through the Holocube. We're still not sure how that owl got my letter to Coruscant last year, but I'd hate for any owls the get hurt trying to make the attempt."

"Dumbledore's Holocube went missing, too," Hermione said. "He came here a few weeks ago and wanted to borrow the one you left for me. That's when I found that mine was gone. I had seen it only that morning, so it must have been taken while I was still in the room. I think that Dumbledore realized that as well, as he packed our house in a minute and got us out of there. He also warded both this house and the old one." Harry and Toma shares a glance.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione.

"I'm not sure yet," said Master Toma, "but I don't like that it seems like someone is trying to block Harry's communications while he is off world."

They were just being shown the guest bedrooms that Harry and Toma would be staying in that night when they encountered a most peculiar sight. Sitting on Harry's bed was a small, bruised creature with overly large eyes and long, floppy ears. The Grangers all recognized it as a house-elf. It seemed very nervous.

"Harry Potter!" The elf squeaked, standing up and smoothing down the filthy tea towel he wore. "Such a honor it is."

"The honor is mine," answered a confused Harry. "May I know your name?"

"Dobby the house-elf," replied the elf.

"How did you get past the wards?" asked Hermione. "I thought the Headmaster had an anti-intrusion ward added. Dobby looked sheepish, but did not answer the question.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Dobby," said Harry. He had decided a diplomatic approach would probably work best, as the creature appeared very skittish. "Please be seated. How may I be of service to you?"

Dobby began to wail at this. Eventually, he calmed down, blew his nose into his tea towel, and sat back down.

"You offer to serve Dobby?" The house elf sniffled. "And to sit with him, as an equal? Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your kindness Dobby never knew."

"Of course you're an equal," said Hermione. "Why would you think otherwise?" Dobby looked at her in confusion.

"Because," he answered, "house-elves are not equal. We are bound to our families and required to serve them, even if we are treated like vermin." Dobby's eyes went wide and he tried to punish himself by hitting himself about the head with the nightstand lamp, but Emma Granger would not let him.

"Stop it, Dobby!" she yelled. She was trying to wrench the lamp from Dobby's hands, but was unable to. Suddenly, it flew out of his hands and Toma caught it. "Thank you, Toma," she said to the Jedi Master.

"Now, Dobby," She said, turning back to the house elf, "there is to be no hitting in this house. Not even of yourself."

Dobby lay there, panting from the beating he had given himself.

"Dobby understands," he said. "Dobby will have to do extra punishments later, but he will try not to here."

"I don't want you to punish yourself at all," cried a very upset Hermione.

"It is required," said Dobby. "Dobby's Master commands, and Dobby must." He looked at the nightstand again and his hands twitched in the direction of the lamp. Hermione stepped in between the table and the elf and gave Dobby a warning look.

"Let's all go into the dining room and have some tea," Emma said. Dobby disappeared in a flash. The Grangers and the Jedi rushed downstairs and saw that Dobby had a tea service set up for five already.

"Dobby," said Emma, "all are welcome at our table for tea. Please set a place for yourself as well." Dobbyf burst into a fresh round of tears, but did as he was asked.

Hermione poured for everyone, including Dobby. The elf was sniffling the entire time, but between mother and daughter, they managed to calm him down. Toma and Harry, both recognizing that Dobby was responding better to the mother and daughter team than he would have to either Jedi, let the two women lead.

"Now," asked Emma, "why don't you tell us why you are here?"

"Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter," Dobby said. "Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year!"

There was a beat of silence for a moment as everyone tried to process that.

"I see," responded Emma. "Why shouldn't Harry return to school? He needs his education."

"Harry Potter needs to be safe," replied Dobby. "There is a plot! A plot to bring terrible danger to Hogwarts!"

"What sort of plot?" asked Toma. Dobby started to struggle with himself, clearly wanting to tell everything he knew, but also struggling to keep himself from hitting himself as punishment for betraying his family. Emma quickly put a stop to it.

"That's enough, Dobby!" she said, "We understand that you cannot say." Dobby settled down.

"I have to go back, Dobby," Harry said to Dobby's horror. "Every friend I have on this planet will be there. If there is danger, then I will be there to protect them."

"So noble, Harry Potter," Dobby sobbed, "But Harry Potter must stay safe!"

"You took the cubes," said Hermione, "didn't you?" Dobby's eyes opened wide in terror.

"Dobby is sorry!" he cried out. "Dobby thought if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him, he might not want to come back."

"I understand," said Hermione, gently. "I forgive you. You have to give them back, though." Dobby's ears drooped. He pulled the Holocubes out of his tea towel and held them in his hands.

"Dobby will give them back if Harry Potter promises he will not return to school!" Dobby said, tears streaming down his face.

"Dobby," said Hermione, "I understand why you took them, but you know that stealing is wrong. Please give the Holocubes back to me now."

Her voice brooked no argument. Dobby was conditioned to obey commands. The impulse to do so now was strong, even if these people were not family. The kindness they had shown him tipped the balance, and he agreed to return the stolen items. He handed the small, blue cubes to Hermione.

"Dobby," Harry said, "I need you to understand that I will be going to school. I cannot just quit and run away to be safe. That's not the Jedi way."

"Dobby understands," the elf said, nodding. "Dobby wishes Harry Potter would reconsider, though." He snapped his fingers and disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Harry and Hermione were standing on Platform 9-3/4 with Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Toma had gone ahead to Hogwarts to meet with Dumbledore and explain about Dobby. The Grangers were taking the moment to say goodbye.

"Now," Mrs. Granger said to them, "I would really appreciate it if you two did not get involved with any more trolls, or possessed professors, or kidnappers this year."

"No green skinned monsters this year," Hermione said. "We'll try our best."

"Thank you for letting us stay with you," Harry said. "I love the new house." Mrs. Granger gave him a hug.

"You're welcome any time, Dear," she said.

Mr. Granger shook Harry's hand while his wife enveloped their daughter in a hug.

"Be careful this year," Dan told Harry. "Don't take the warning lightly." They had previously decided not to mention Dobby by name in public, since it was likely that whomever owned him would be on the train platform.

"I won't," Harry promised, "and I will be careful. I'll keep an eye out for Hermione, too."

"Thank you, son," Mr. Granger said. He had always known he'd have to let his daughter spread her own wings, but letting her off on her own to this school for most of the year was hard for him. Especially when it seemed to be far more dangerous than they were initially led to believe.

Harry and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express and found a compartment. As they waited for their friends, Harry told her all about his summer, which was mostly training in the Jedi Temple. Hermione caught Harry up on any tidbits of her summer she had left out before, but it wasn't much more than she had already told him.

* * *

At Hogwarts, Master Toma and Headmaster Dumbledore we're sitting in the Headmasters office, discussing the events of the summer.

"A house-elf?" exclaimed Dumbledore. He looked dumbfounded. "I admit that the possibility had not occurred to me. I am so used to house-elves acting the way they do that the concept of one stealing from me didn't even cross my mind. I will have to put some additional protections in place. I am pleased that young Harry and yourself are well. I was most concerned when the Holocube went missing."

Toma went on to explain about the warning that Dobby had left them.

"It was quite vague, and it seemed he was fighting himself to tell us even as little as he did," Toma said. "Have you heard anything about danger coming to Hogwarts?"

"Not specifically," acknowledged Dumbledore. "There are usually some disgruntled parents who are upset that their children failed to perform to their expectations. They seem to believe all of the effort should be on the part of the teacher, and are dismayed to find that Hogwarts expects as much of the student. Their threats are usually in the form of discontinued funding, however, rather than anything physical. I thank you for passing on this warning. I will review the castle security, but without a more specific threat it is difficult to know what to look for."

"Have you managed to fill your Defense Against the Dark Arts posting?" Toma asked.

"Oh, yes," answered Dumbledore. "A young man who has made quite a name for himself in the literary world has come forward to volunteer. Gilderoy Lockhart has written numerous books about his experiences. I recall he was quite clever when he was a young Ravenclaw here, if a bit boastful about his accomplishments. I have no reason to think he has changed in the slightest."

"I would like to ask you about Harry's Jedi training in the coming year," Toma inquired. "Master Yoda and Master Amani have remained on Coruscant, so his training is left to me. Are the quarters I used last year still available, or should I secure lodging in Hogsmeade?"

"The rooms you used last year are still available," Dumbledore answered. "Without meaning offence, though, I would like to limit your contact with the other students. Young Harry, is of course, your charge. We have already agreed for you to continue his Jedi training. I'm afraid that the 'Jedi class' will have to be suspended for now, especially in light of the potential for danger to the students. I would like to limit stray students wandering the halls alone or in small groups for now."

"An understandable precaution," Toma acknowledged. "I was finding it difficult to keep them occupied anyway, and having Harry alone will free us to explore Jedi teachings without restriction."

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "The last thing I'd like to talk with you about is Harry's lightsaber. I would feel far more comfortable if it did not return to Hogwarts."

"I'm afraid that is impossible," Toma said, firmly. "A lightsaber is far more than just a weapon to a Jedi. It must remain with him if he is to stay at Hogwarts."

"Please understand," Dumbledore said, "I am not suggesting that he not have a lightsaber. That particular lightsaber, however, continues to concern me. Voldemort is, after all, still out there, and if he believes Harry possesses the stone..."

"I see," said Toma. He considered the situation for a moment. The request for Harry to switch to another lightsaber was not unreasonable on the face of it. How was he to explain to the Headmaster the intimate, personal connection between a Jedi and his lightsaber.

"I wonder if you would consider," he suggested to Dumbledore, "giving up your wand." Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise.

"My wand?" he asked.

"Yes," Toma answered. "Surely you can use another?"

"I think I understand," said Dumbledore, the sparkles returning to his eyes. "You are suggesting that to a Jedi, your lightsabers are every bit as personal as a wand is to a wizard."

"Not being a wizard, I can only guess," said Toma, "but it is a reasonable comparison. A lightsaber is tuned to a jedi through meditation and the Force. It has a presence of its own, and each is unique. I'm afraid I must insist that he be allowed to keep it. I may have a solution, though."

"I would be delighted to hear it," said Dumbledore.

"Harry is ready to begin learning some dual weapon techniques," Toma explained. "He still has the replacement lightsaber he was given when his was damaged. I will instruct him to be seen using that lightsaber sometime soon after he arrives. I have no doubt that word will spread."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "It will appear to Voldemort that Harry is no longer using the lightsaber he is interested in. With the stone off the planet, as far as he is aware, he should lose interest in it."

"If we get any intelligence that he does not," Toma said, "we will actually send the lightsaber off planet. I would like to try to keep it with Harry for the moment, however."

"Very well," agreed Dumbledore. "Please make sure Harry understands that in order for this deception to work, he will have to try his hardest not be to seen with his golden lightsaber."

"I will ensure he is as careful as possible. I leave you to your preparations," Toma said, and stood to take his leave.

* * *

On his way to Dumbledore's office, Professor Severus Snape passed the Jedi Master Toma Kendet, who was leaving.

"Professor Snape," Toma greeted. They each stopped in the hallway. Snape was carrying a large envelope of paper.

"Mr. Kendet," Snape acknowledged. "I trust your charge has acquired his school supplies on time this year?" The professor asked, referring to the unpleasant duty he had been forced to perform a year ago to ferry Harry Potter to Diagonal Alley and back.

"Yes, we have," answered Toma.

"If you will excuse me, then," Snape said, "I have an appointment with the Headmaster." They parted ways, and Snape gave the password to the gargoyle guarding the spiral staircase that led to Dumbledore's office.

* * *

"Dobby?" asked Snape. He was sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk, where the Headmaster had gone over the lesson plans for the first week of classes. It was rather humiliating to still be subjected to such close scrutiny, but he had to admit that his students had learned more from him last year than in the five years previous combined. The headmaster had followed this review with a question about the name 'Dobby.'

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "He is a house-elf who delivered a warning to Harry Potter. Apparently, Dobby is in possession of information regarding an imminent danger to Hogwarts, but due to his family ties was unable to give any specific information."

"I am aware of Dobby," Snape said. "He is one of the Malfoy house-elves."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "That is troubling. Unfortunately, this increases the likelihood that the threat is credible. I will alert the Hogwarts elves to keep an eye out for him should he return here. In the meantime, please keep an extra careful eye on young Draco. I would hope Lucius would not involve his own son in one of his schemes, but even I am not so foolish as to believe anything is beyond his ambition."

"Should we attempt to apprehend the elf?" asked Snape. "If we could obtain any additional information…"

"I'm afraid not," answered Dumbledore. "If Dobby comes to Hogwarts again it will likely be on Lucius's instructions. He will certainly be interrogated on what he sees here. If he reports that he was questioned by us, it would both tip our hand as well as trigger a fatal punishment for Dobby. We will simply have to increase our vigilance."

"As you wish, Headmaster," Snape acknowledged. "If I learn anything, I will let you know at once."

* * *

The student body was seated at their house tables in the Great Hall. They were anxiously awaiting the feast.

Hermione, sitting between Harry and Neville, looked across the table to Ron. They had seen him on the train, but he hadn't said much during the trip. He had mostly sat quietly and played with Scabbers, his pet rat.

"How was your summer, Ron," Hermione asked. She hadn't missed that he didn't seem very happy, and wanted to help. Ron shrugged.

"It was pretty uneventful," he answered. "Played some Quidditch with my brothers some, but mostly just sat around."

Their conversation was cut off by the entrance of the first years with Professor McGonagall. The new students congregated around the three legged stool with the Sorting Hat sitting on it. Harry was surprised when the hat broke into its welcome song.

" _I may be brown and ruffled,_

_But don't judge a book by its cover,_

_Just put me on, we'll take a look,_

_And see what we can discover!_

_Gryffindor's are sure of heart,_

_To adventure they are no stranger,_

_But if with lions you do trod,_

_You'll often cope with danger,_

_In Hufflepuff you'll find,_

_That they are loyal, it is true,_

_But if you like to go alone,_

_Their colors aren't for you!_

_Slytherin's are cunning,_

_They strive to reach the summit,_

_But those poor souls who fail the tests,_

_Find their stars will surely plummet!_

_Finally in Ravenclaw,_

_Sit those of introspection,_

_But unless you like to hit the books,_

_You'll suffer a rejection,_

_Finally, I say to you,_

_Try not to sit in fear,_

_I've never sorted wrong so far,_

_So how about a cheer_!"

The students all applauded and whistled. The Ravenclaws reaction to the hats song was a bit more diminished then the other houses. They seemed a bit taken aback by the hat's description of them. Harry clapped along with the rest, but sat staring at the hat long after the rest of the Great Hall had settled down.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, noticing the odd look on his face.

"Yes," he answered, "its just that I hadn't realized how much I'd missed this."

"Missed what?" asked Hermione, confused.

"I spend all of my time either using technology far more advanced than anything Earth has to offer," Harry explained, "or studying ancient texts older than human civilization. In all of that, though, I've never before seen a singing hat. I've missed the surprises this place keeps throwing at me."

Any further contemplation would have to wait. The sorting had begun. Each of the houses was well represented in the new crop of students. A hyper, blond headed boy named Colin Creevey was sorted into Gryffindor. He was so over the moon to meet Harry Potter that he gave the impression of an excitable puppy. Ron in particular was noticeably annoyed by the joyful jabberings of the new first year, and grumbled at him to sit down already.

A strangely dressed girl named Luna Lovegood sat for a long time under the sorting hat, swinging her feet back and forth. She seemed to be having a lively discussion with the Sorting Hat, and sat for nearly four minutes before it shouted out "Ravenclaw!"

Finally, Ginevra Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor, and the feast began. Ginevra sat down next to Ron, much to his dislike. He was in his normal eating mode, which meant that his introduction of his sister to the group needed three swallows and a near choking incident before they understood she went by Ginny. Ginny was incredibly shy, it seemed, and kept stealing glances at Harry. Harry, for his part, decided that he much preferred her shy, quiet nature to that of Colin, who was asking for an autograph for the third time.

Draco Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table, eyeing the Gryffindors. This year was going to be different, he vowed to himself. This year he would rule.

* * *

After a very satisfying feast, Dumbledore stood and addressed the students.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" the Headmaster called out. "Our first years should note that the dark forest on the boundary of the grounds is strictly off limits. Many creatures reside there that would not welcome visitors. As I'm sure many of you are aware, Mr. Argus Filch is no longer with us. His replacement is Mr. Alfred Mundy." An older man with wire frame glasses and white hair stood from the head table and nodded at the students. He didn't smile, but his demeanor was still far friendlier than Filch had ever managed.

"I'm sure you will all do your best to ensure he is made to feel welcome and at home here," Dumbledore continued. "In addition, we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. With every hope that he will be remaining with us for a while, I would like to introduce you to Gilderoy Lockhart."

Several students ducked a bit at the thunderous applause that erupted from the majority of the female student population above fourth year. Professor Lockhart stood and grinned at the students with a wide smile that showed off every gleaming, white tooth he could make visible.

"Yes, thank you for that fine welcome," the Headmaster said. Lockhart took his seat again. "With a new year," he continued, "comes new opportunities for learning. It also introduces another year of unknowns, and a new group of students for whom this magical world of ours is brand new. This is an exciting time for them. Excitement, however, must be tempered with caution. I implore all students, new and old alike, to report any unusual events or situations to their head of house. Last year saw one of our first years nearly see her life at an end, and that is something I never want to experience in these walls again!"

All of the students in second year and above were well aware what the Headmaster was referring to, and the first years were quickly informed what the Headmaster was referring to. More than one person took a quick glance over to the Slytherin table to gawk at Daphne Greengrass. She had been kidnapped by the Voldemort possessed Argus Filch at the end of the previous year.

"I do not wish for you to overly worry yourselves," said Dumbledore, calming the whispers that had broken out. "I have no reason to believe any of you are in danger. I would just like you to all to look before you leap, and to always be aware of what's around you." With that, he dismissed them all to bed.

* * *

The prefects guided the first years to their respective dormitories, and the rest of the students followed along shortly after. Harry and Neville spent a few minutes in the Gryffindor common room catching up with Hermione, and then went up to bed.

At breakfast the next morning, Professor McGonagall passed out the schedules for the Gryffindors.

"Defense first thing after breakfast," Ron said. "I wonder what this Lockhart bloke is going to be like. Seems a bit full of himself, if you ask me," the redhead said. Seamus Finnegan looked up to the head table. When he saw that the Defense Professor was not present, he leaned over to Ron.

"He is!" the Irish boy whispered. "I've read those books of 'is, and I reckon he's made it all up."

"Why would he do that?" Ron asked.

"To sell 'is books, that's why!" Seamus answered. "I'm going to see if I can catch 'im in a lie today," he confided to Ron.

"Good luck!" Ron said. He vowed to keep a close eye on the Defense professor. He'd heard from all his brothers how that position was cursed.

* * *

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was a large, open space. The main decoration was the skeleton of a small dragon that was suspended from the ceiling. The students were seated, waiting on the teacher. They didn't need to wait long.

A tall man with long, blond hair that was impeccably styled swept into the room. He was wearing periwinkle blue robes with leather knee high riding boots. His robes were styled to more resemble a nobleman than a wizard. He strode down the aisle, almost strutting as he greeted his students.

"Allow me to introduce you," the man said in a loud, clear voice, "to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor!" He turned to face the class. "Me!" He spread his gloved hands as if to present himself for inspection. On the walls of the classroom were dozens of portraits of Lockhart, all of them smiling and posing dramatically.

"Gilderoy Lockhart! Order of Merlin," Professor Lockhart said, pride ringing in his voice. "Third Class," he amended. "Can anyone tell me why I was honored with such a prestigious award?"

Most of the class glanced around at each other. Only Hermione and Seamus Finnigan had raised their hands to answer. Lockhart called on Seamus.

"It's says in your book that you got it by defeating the Wagga Wagga Werewolf," the boy answered.

"Ah," Lockhart beamed, "a lover of books! Five points to Gryffindor". Seamus continued to speak, however.

"There's something I don't understand, though," Seamus challenged, a bit of hostility on the edge of his voice. "It said you turned the monster back into a human. If you can do that, why haven't you done it for all the other werewolves out there?" The rest of the class looked shocked at Seamus's challenge. Lockhart looked offended.

"Tut tut!" the professor exclaimed. "I see you haven't truly read the book, but only skimmed it. I'm afraid I'll have to take four of those points back." Lockhart ignored Seamus's face turning bright red as he lectured. "If you had read the passage properly, you would have learned that the homorphus charm is not a permanent cure! The man is to this day still a werewolf. It did, however, allow me to return him to his human form long enough for me apprehend him, thus saving the life of the child the monster was attempting to bite."

Lockhart picked up one of the portraits and showed it to the class. It showed a smiling Lockhart posing with a small, frightened boy. The child looked to be six or seven years old. A severely scarred, bare chested man lay on the ground behind Lockhart, clearly bound in chains. The moving photograph was silent and the background was dark, but the captured werewolf could be seen to struggle ineffectually against his bonds.

"Sorry, Professor," Seamus mumbled. "My uncle was bitten by a werewolf a few years ago, and I thought that if you could cure one of them, then why hadn't you done it for all of them…." He trailed off into an uncomfortable silence.

"Ah, I do apologize, Mr. Finnigan," Professor Lockhart replied. His voice had lost the braggart style he usually spoke in. "I am afraid, however, that lycanthropy is an unfortunately permanent affliction. If you would like to speak with me about it in private, please do not hesitate." Seamus nodded and Lockhart reset himself at the front of the class.

The professor began to take the roll. It seemed he had memorized the roster, as he did not reference it as he began calling out each of the students names alphabetically. He located each of the students as they answered and moved on till he had called on every student.

Lockhart turned to the class and addressed them all. "I see you all have copies of my books, well done," he said. Hermione glared at him a bit, not yet forgiving him for leaving information out of those books.

"I want you to all put your wands on your desks for the moment," he instructed. The class did so and looked at Lockhart expectantly. "Can anyone tell me the proper incantation to contain a pixie?" he asked.

No one answered.

"That's perfectly fine," said Lockhart, smiling. "That's why you're here, to learn these things. I want all of you to repeat after me, Imobulus!"

"Imobulus!" The class said, in unison.

"Excellent," praised Lockhart. He had them pronounce it several more times, then turned to a covered birdcage on a wheeled stand that was sitting in the corner of the room. Lockhart walked over to the cage, the tapping of his boots on the stone floor making a clicking sound with every footfall.

"I am quite sure that most of you can guess what's in here," Lockhart said, brushing his hand against the cover of the large cage. Something under the cover chattered and shook the bars.

"Pixies?" guessed Seamus Finnigan.

"Freshly caught Cornish Pixies, Mr. Finnigan!" Lockhart answered, throwing the cover back and uncovering a cage full of what appeared to be a ball of writhing, blue insects. "We're going to see what you make of them." With a short wave of his wand, the birdcage wheeled itself to the front of the classroom.

"Now, the 'Imobulus' charm is simple, and not very powerful, but that's fine," Lockhart said. "Pixies are only two inches tall, you don't need a stunner to deal with them. Do not be complacent, however!" he warned. "What they lack in stature they more than make up for in deviousness, wild abandon, and shear velocity. They are devilishly fast, proportionately very strong for their size, and utterly mischievous."

Lockhart pointed to the middle of the classroom. "I want you to all pick up your wands and line up in the center aisle. I'll release one pixie at a time, and each of you will take it in turn to try to capture it. You can have up to three tries per attempt. If you fail to hit it on all of your three tries, then rejoin the end of the line and you can try again. I will be on hand to assist anyone who requires it."

The class lined up as he instructed, with Neville Longbottom in front.

"Now," Lockhart said as he took his place near Neville, "there is no wand movements to worry about for this spell, so just point and cast. Are you ready?"

Neville nodded and Lockhart pointed his wand at the pixie cage. With a squeak of metal, the door opened just enough for one of the creatures to squeeze itself out before the metal flap slapped itself back down back down.

The pixie was, as Lockhart had described, only two inches tall. It resembled a human only in that it was bipedal. It had four wings, with which it was able to reach a quite impressive speed, and was a deep cobalt blue. It was also incredibly agile. It did not fly in a straight, predictable line, but rather zigged and zagged all over the place. Neville was having some trouble hitting it.

" _Imobulus_!" he yelled, pointing his wand at the erratically moving target. A transparent white spot of energy leapt out of his wand and shot towards the pixie. Diving under the spell, the pixie dodged the incoming fire and zoomed to the other side of the room.

"Close!" shouted Lockhart in encouragement "Try again!"

" _Imobulus_!" Neville yelled again. This time the shot passed on the pixies left side as it swerved out of the way. The pixie was giggling as it dodged the spell, and Neville had to duck as the creature picked up a flower vase and threw it at the boy with pinpoint accuracy.

"Steady, now!" Lockhart called. Neville concentrated and focused on the little blue figure zipping this way and that on a careening course through the classroom.

" _Imobulus_!" he cried out a final time, and hit the pixie square in the chest just as it emerged from under a desk. The pixie froze in midair, a look of shock and dismay on its face as it slowly rotated in the middle of the classroom. The class cheered for Neville, and Lockhart awarded him five points.

"Next up, Miss Brown," he called, and Lavender Brown blushed as she stood by the handsome teacher. It seemed that Lockhart's presence was enough to throw her aim off considerably, though.Each of Lavender's attempts to stop her pixie missed quite badly. It was clear what she was distracted by, however, as every one of her three misses hit one of the professor's portraits right on their hearts. The pixie seemed offended that it had not rated Lavender's full attention, and stuck it's blue tongue out at her as the girl made her way to the end of the line.

The class cycled through each of the students in turn, each of them trying to immobilize a pixie. Some were clearly more talented at aiming than others. Poor Lavender ended up going to the end of the line three times, and was the last of the class to hit a pixie.

Harry, however, hit his almost as soon as it was out of its cage. Lockhart, either believing it was a fluke or just wanting to see it again, made Harry take on another pixie. The professor made Harry wait till the little blue demon was fully engaged in destroying the room before he allowed the Jedi to stop it. Eventually, all of the students had succeeded in hitting at least one pixie, and the class was at an end.

"Attention!" called Lockhart. The pixies that had been captured had all been returned to their cage.They settled down considerably once the cover was replaced. The class was back at their desks, gathering books and waiting to be dismissed.

"Now that we've had a little bit of practice with pixies," Lockhart said, "we should discuss how this class will work. I will be assigning no written homework!" Half of the class cheered at this, cementing Lockhart as their favorite teacher. "I honestly don't care if you can write an essay on the topics we will be discussing in this class. I didn't endure a year with a Yeti by writing letters to him!" The class laughed.

"Instead," he said, "I will simply tell you at the end of each class which creature we will be studying in the next class, and in which book you may find the daring tale of my adventures involving it. It will be your responsibility to read the story and to be familiar with it by the start of the next class. We will learn any spells necessary in the beginning of the class and go through any practical demonstrations after that. For next class, I would like you to read chapter four of Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, where you will learn everything you never wanted to know about Imps. Any questions?"

Professor Lockhart, seeing there were no questions, dismissed the class. After all of the children had left, be straightened the classroom up and let out a sigh of contentment. He loved to teach.


	5. Chapter 5

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

For the entirety of the first week back at school, all anyone could seem to talk about was the Defense Against the Dark Arts class and it's new professor. Half of the school seemed to be in one camp of opinions about the man and the other half in another.

The first camp was of the opinion that Lockhart was a great wizard who had done some amazing things and was now at Hogwarts to teach them all about it.

The other camp was distrustful of the man, and believed he had either made all of his stories up entirely, or at least had exaggerated them beyond recognition. The main issue this camp had was his way of speaking every sentence as if he were accepting an major award.

Many Gryffindors were enamored with the adventurous nature of his tales, and loved his recreations. In class, he would tell of one of his adventures and allow one of the students to play the part of the hero, while Lockhart played the part of whatever creature he was lecturing about. He would have probably lost a lot of his supporters had he taught with the roles reversed.

The Ravenclaws were loyal to their former housemate, and respected the knowledge that he freely gave to anyone who asked. They were less than impressed with the eagerness he displayed at jumping into situations headfirst, but conceded that at least he had accomplished a lot by doing it.

Hufflepuffs were generally not fans of his boastful nature, and felt that anyone who had to tell you how great they are probably aren't that great. They found themselves in an unlikely alliance with the Slytherins, who were, by tradition, rooting against the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The Slytherins were the source of many of the rumors that began circulating that Lockhart was all talk and that that he'd faked everything he wrote.

On the whole, though, the general feeling about Lockhart was positive. Many, even in the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw camp had taken a wait and see attitude.

* * *

In Friday's Transfiguration class, there was a much more hesitant feel about the lesson than was usual.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but could you repeat that?" Neville had asked. Trevor the toad was sitting on his desk, and was not the only pet in attendance. Professor McGonagall had asked any student with a pet at Hogwarts to bring it to class to use in a lesson, as her supply of project animals was running low.

"I said, Mr. Longbottom," the Transfiguration teacher repeated, "that we will be learning how to turn animals into water goblets."

"Why?" asked Draco Malfoy. His eagle owl, Purity, was perched on his desk, looking with hungry interest at several of the rodent pets in the room.

"I beg your pardon?" said McGonagall, offended that her lesson was being questioned.

"I mean, why?" asked Draco. "Just… why? What's the point of turning an animal into a water goblet? Just in case your having a dinner party and find you're one goblet short, you can say 'Hand me that rat,' and fix the problem?"

"I do not care for your attitude, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said, sternly. Harry however, glanced at Hedwig and found himself agreeing with Malfoy for the first time ever.

"Now," she said, "vertebrate to inanimate object transfiguration is much more difficult than the invertebrate to inanimate object exercises we worked on last year. Everyone pay attention, please."

She turned to a black raven that was perched on a stand in the center of the classroom. She pointed her wand at the bird.

"One, two, three… Vera Verto," she said. The bird started to give off a startled squawk, which was cut off as the bird was transformed into a elegant water goblet. Several students felt somewhat queezy as they recognized the pattern on the goblet as being the same as the goblet they drank their morning juice from with their breakfast that morning.

Hedwig, who was watching the demonstration intently, cocked her head and looked straight at Professor McGonagall. The owl maintained eye contact with the professor for precisely three heartbeats before spreading her wings and exiting through a conveniently open window. Draco's Purity decided Hedwig was an incredibly wise bird and hurried to follow. The rest of the birds in the classroom were thwarted from their escape attempts by McGonagall's wand, which she used to close and lock the window.

"The two of you will have to borrow a hedgehog for today's lesson," Professor McGonagall said to Harry and Draco. The two boys glanced at each other in an awkward, almost friendly way as they each grabbed a hedgehog from a box at the front of the classroom. They even exchanged a small smile as they silently acknowledged the wisdom and speed of each other's pets.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Harry, Hermione, and Neville were sitting in the Gryffindor common room after breakfast, studying and finishing their homework. Harry was going to be spending the day in Jedi training with Toma, so the friends were enjoying the time together as they got their work done. Ginny Weasley was curled up in a large, cushioned chair by the fireplace, writing in her diary and stealing glances at Harry. Ron who would normally be trying to wheedle a game of chess out of someone, was nowhere to be found.

"I don't understand it," Hermione said. "He was fine at the end of last year. He had pulled his grades up, and was even a large part of the group that helped to save Daphne."

Harry, remembering the counseling sessions the Jedi used to help those who had to engage in active operations cope with the mental trauma of combat, was suddenly struck with a thought.

"Hermione," he said, softly, "did anyone ever talk with you about that fight?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, puzzled.

"I mean," explained Harry, "did anyone sit down with you and go through the actions you took? To help you make sense of it, and understand that you did the right thing?"

"You mean a counseling session," Hermione answered. "Mum did. She's a dentist , but she's taken a lot of courses on helping people cope with trauma. Mostly because it helps her deal with patients with a lot of anxiety about visiting a dentist, but it certainly helped me, too. We didn't have to try and find a therapist who knows about magic, or try to mix the story up so it didn't sound like magic."

"What are you two talking about?" asked Neville, who was totally lost.

"That's what I'm afraid of," said Harry. "I don't think anyone's talked to Ron about this at all. He sliced a man's arm off with a laser sword, and I think they just patted him on the head and said 'Have a good summer.'"

"You don't think they really did that," asked Hermione, "do you Harry?"

"I don't think they understand the concept of mental health at all," answered Harry. "I'll talk with Toma about it today," he said, "and we'll see what we can do. If he's been thinking about it all summer, that could easily explain the change in his mood. It's probably eating away at him."

"I don't understand," said Neville. "He did the right thing."

"Of course he did, Neville," said Hermione. "That's not the problem."

"The problem," Harry explained, "is that doing something like cutting someone's arm off in combat, even if it's the right thing to do, can affect your mind. Your conscience starts playing games, making you second guess all the actions you took. It makes you think about any actions you could have taken if you had only known what you know now. That's why the Jedi always debrief those involved in combat with a trained healer. Wizards probably do that too in professions that see combat, but I'm guessing no one thought to do that with Ron."

"I hope he's going to be ok," said Neville.

"Given time, he'll probably get over it on his own," said Harry, "especially he doesn't have to do it again. I'm going to check with Toma, though, just in case."

* * *

Toma agreed to bring up Harry's concerns about Ron with Dumbledore the next time they met. The Master and Padawan had decided to take advantage of the nice weather and took their training outdoors. It was as good a time as any to fulfill his promise to Dumbledore about Harry's lightsaber, so they engaged in some lightsaber exercises in the courtyard. In full sight of everyone, Harry used the brilliant green blade that he normally carried as a spare in his mokeskin pouch . He would have to start thinking of it as his main lightsaber now, given Voldemort's continued interest in the stone.

They were running through some parry drills and had attracted a lot of attention. It wasn't nearly as exciting as the exhibition duel the students had witnessed with Master Amani last year, but the flashing of the lightsabers still drew a crowd. Harry tried to ignore the watching students. These were drills he had practiced times beyond counting. The trick was to not concentrate. Concentrating on the movements meant you were performing the movement. You were supposed to let go of yourself and surrender your movements to the Force. Harry was feeling the Force flowing through him as the green blades flashed back and forth, parry, strike, parry, return, disturbance.

Like a pebble thrown into a pool of water, Harry was suddenly aware of an anomaly in the Force. A swelling from behind him.Without pausing for thought, Harry surrendered his will to the Force. His hands and arms moved without him willing them to, angling his lightsaber to intercept the stinging hex Theodore Nott had aimed at the Jedi's back.

With a flash and a zap, the spell ricocheted off the emerald green plasma blade and was returned to its point of origin. Theodore yelled as his own stinging hex hit him square in the face, causing his features to swell nearly beyond recognition. Draco, who had been hiding beside Theodore, dragged the yelping boy to the hospital wing. They then had to try to explain how Theodore had been hit with his own stinging hex.

* * *

Theodore was fuming as he sat in the hospital wing, waiting for his face to shrink back down.

"You said there was no way they'd know who sent it!" he accused Draco in a furious whisper.

"He shouldn't have!" answered a red faced Draco. "His back was towards us, and he was between us and that teacher of his. No one should have been able to see us. I swear, someday I'm going to find out just how he's so good at slipping out of traps."

"Well," Theodore said, as he gingerly tried to see if the swelling had reduced at all, "you can leave me out of it."

"A wise decision," said a stern voice from the doorway. Neither boy had noticed Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway. "It's a shame you didn't display this intelligence before you tried to jinx a fellow student in the back. What were you thinking?"

"What are you talking about?" protested Draco. "We were just practicing dueling and a spell got away from us."

"Unfortunately for that version of events," countered Professor McGonagall, "the entire incident was, in fact, witnessed. Mr. Nott, you will lose twenty points and receive a detention for using magic against a fellow student. I was inclined to increase the punishment since you not only used magic against another student, but you attempted to jinx him while his back was turned. However, I feel the pain you are suffering as a result of your actions will serve nicely as a reminder that such actions will not be tolerated at Hogwarts. A single detention will suffice, as long as the action is not repeated." She turned to Draco.

"As you were witnessed egging Mr. Nott on, you will receive the same punishment," Professor McGonagall said to the fuming boy. "Additionally, you will receive another detention with me for lying to me just now."

"You can't prove anything!" spat Draco. "When my father hears of this…"

"When your father hears about this from you," Professor McGonagall cut him off, "he will be hearing about it for the second time."

Draco stopped protesting. He hadn't really intended on telling his father anything. As far as Draco was concerned, the less his father knew about him, the better. He never even gave a thought as to why he was trying to emulate the man.

His father hated anything that drew the wrong sort of attention to the Malfoy family. His fear of his father far outweighed his hatred of Potter. He had only been at school a week and he had already triggered a letter home from the Deputy Headmistress. He would have to walk on eggshells for a while, and it was time for some groveling.

"I apologize, Professor," he said, all of the injured indignation gone from his voice. "I'll take whatever punishment you feel is appropriate."

"A much better attitude, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said.

"I was hoping that if I take the punishment without further complaint and apologized to Potter," suggested Draco, "that maybe we could chalk this up to high spirits and resolve it internally. There's really no need to involve my parents. I assure you it won't happen again."

Minerva McGonagall was not unobservant. But she also was not heartless. She well understood the fear her threat of informing his father had brought about in the boy, and while she detested the opportunistic bullying the boy displayed, she felt some kindness might help him far more than extra punishment.

"I warn you, Mr. Malfoy," she admonished Draco, "that when I strike a deal with a student, I always insist on full compliance to the terms, and I always collect on any favors owed. If I agree to leave your parents out of this incident, I will expect to see a much more cooperative attitude from you, both in class and in your dealings with other students. Are we agreed?"

Draco was sure he would strafe under the watchful eye of McGonagall, but he had to keep his father out of this. His mother he could handle.

"Of course, Professor," he said. "I'll make my apology to Potter the next time I see him."

"Very well, then," Professor McGonagall agreed. "Mr. Nott, your detention will be assigned after you have fully recovered from your injuries. Mr. Malfoy, you may serve yours after dinner this evening. Be in my classroom as soon as dinner is finished. Come prepared to write."

* * *

Headmaster Dumbledore was sitting with Toma Kendet again. This time, they were discussing Ronald Weasley. Dumbledore was becoming annoyed with how often he was in meetings with the Jedi. Examining his feelings, he was sure his annoyance was rooted in how often he felt the need to justify himself over things he felt were none of the Jedi's business. He decided to make this a short meeting.

"I am not at liberty to discuss a student's medical history with anyone but his guardians," Dumbledore told the Jedi, "but rest assured the situation was not ignored."

"I did not mean to offend..." Toma Kendet began.

"Yet, sadly, accidental offense occurs alarmingly often," Dumbledore finished for him. "I realize that to you we must appear to be quite primitive. Perhaps your Jedi Council has even bandied the word barbaric about in discussing us humans," the Headmaster said. Toma could not refute the shrewd guess. The Jedi Master had gotten used to dealing with Albus Dumbledore while he was on his back foot, and he was now seeing that this was not a man he could just order about as he pleased.

"We are not," continued Dumbledore, "however, so behind in civility that we will allow a child to go without treatment in the event of a traumatic incident."

"I apologize," Toma said. It was not often that he blundered this badly in a diplomatic matter, and he decided to end the meeting to regroup. "I was merely concerned for the boy as Harry has said his behavior has changed since the incident." Headmaster Dumbledore accepted the apology with a nod, and stood to escort Toma out.

"I will have a conversation with him and his parents," Dumbledore said as he walked Toma to the door, "and make sure he's coping with the situation. I thank you for your interest, but I must ask you to respect Mr. Weasley's privacy."

* * *

After dinner, Draco gathered his parchment and quill and left the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He was not going to enjoy this. He approached the Gryffindor table on his way out.

"Potter," Draco greeted. Harry was sitting with Neville and Hermione. Neville looked up in alarm, but Harry simply smiled at Draco.

"Draco," Harry responded.

"I wanted to apologize for my part in the incident earlier today," Draco said, somewhat stiffly. "While I didn't fire the jinx at you, I must confess that I knew it would be cast and did nothing to stop it." Hermione and Neville both shot their eyebrows up in surprise. Harry continued to smile and nodded.

"I accept your apology," Harry said, rising and extending his hand to the startled Slytherin. Every pair of eyes in the room was watching this development. It was not often that a Gryffindor offered to shake the hand of a Slytherin. Draco took Harry's hand and they shook them for a moment before dropping them.

"Well," Draco said, "I have a detention to get to."

"I hope it's not too long," Harry said, then sat back down with his friends. Across the Great Hall, whispers erupted as this event was analyzed.

"It's not natural," Ernie Macmillan said to Hannah Abbot at the Hufflepuff table. "Slytherins and Gryffindors getting betrothed, and now the most Slytherin Of Slytherins just shook hands with the most Gryffindor of Gryffindors? What is happening at Hogwarts?"

* * *

On the other side of the Great Hall, the Ravenclaws were analyzing the event as well.

"Hey, Luna," Lisa Turpin asked, "what do you make of that?"

"It would seem," answered Luna in her airy voice, "that Harry Potter, who is remarkably free of wrackspurts, is actually repelling them from those he touches." Lisa, her brow furrowed in confusion, was about to ask what a wrackspurt was when Luna started to stand up.

"Perhaps I should ask him to touch me," Luna said, intent on approaching Harry Potter. Lisa blushed and her eyes went wide. She grabbed the hand of the younger girl, preventing her from leaving.

"No, Luna," Lisa said, guiding her back to her seat. "You should definitely not ask him that."

"Why not?" asked Luna, confused.

"Well…" Lisa said, but found herself completely unqualified to have this discussion. "Ummm…. Well, you see…" Lisa found that she just didn't have words to explain why young girls just shouldn't go up to boys and ask them to touch them. Not any words she wanted to utter in the Great Hall during dinner at any rate.

"You know what?" she said, wanting out of this conversation but still determined to protect the young girl, "we should ask Professor Flitwick. Adjectives might not fail him."

* * *

"Oh my," exclaimed Filius Flitwick. "Thank you, Miss Turpin, for bringing this to my attention. Ten point to Ravenclaw for looking after the younger students." The Ravenclaw head of house dismissed Lisa and privately informed Luna about how to better word some things. Once learning why Lisa was so concerned, Luna had a good laugh. The entire situation was just so funny.

* * *

Draco Malfoy's hand was cramped. He'd never written so much in his life. Professor McGonagall's idea of writing wasn't what Draco had anticipated. He thought he'd be doing lines, but she said there was nothing he could learn from that.

Instead, she had him writing essays on transfiguration. He was already caught up on his work in class, so she had him working ahead, to lessens he had not yet learned. He was somewhat disturbed to find that, when removed from the pressure of his housemates to resist anything the Gryffindor head of house said, he actually quite enjoyed the one on one instruction.

Professor McGonagall released him shortly before curfew, and Professor Snape arrived to escort Draco from the transfiguration classroom to his dormitory. Professor Snape used the opportunity to inquire about his summer. While regaling the potions master about all of the things his mother had bought him, including a brand new Nimbus 2001 racing broom, he caught sight of a large shadow out of the corner of his eye.

"Did you see that?" he hissed at Professor Snape, peering down the dark corridor where he had seen the shadow moving. Professor Snape looked down the corridor as well, but saw nothing.

"What did you see?" he asked Draco.

"I don't know," Draco answered. "It was big, whatever it was. A big shadow of something moving along the wall." Professor Snape took out his wand.

"No students should be out this late unattended," he called down the corridor. "Show yourself!" There was no answer, but both man and boy felt the hairs on their arms and on the back of their necks stand on end. They both had the unmistakable feeling that something sinister had taken notice of Professor Snape's words.

"I think we should leave," suggested Draco. He found he could not keep a tremor out of his voice. More than anything in this world, he wanted to avoid going down that corridor. If Professor Snape tried to make him, he would bolt back to his dormitory. He had no way of knowing that Professor Snape was fighting similar feelings of unreasonable fear.

Severus Snape was not twelve, though, and had faced many fears without backing down before. He was one of the few individuals who had ever dared to look the Dark Lord in the eye and lie. He was the only one he knew of who had done so and survived. He pointed his wand down the corridor.

" _Lumos projecto!_ " he cried out, and a bright ball of light flew down the hallway, illuminating every nook and cranny with a brilliant white light. The ball of light, which Snape had aimed on an upward trajectory, struck the ceiling halfway down the hallway and stuck there, sustaining the illumination.

There was no physical reaction, and whatever was down there was not made visible. The feeling of hostility and imminent danger both Professor Snape and Draco were feeling was multiplied tenfold, though.

Severus Snape was no fool. "Run!" he called out to Draco. That was unnecessary, as Draco was already fleeing. They both made it to the Slytherin common room in record time. There had been no sign of pursuit, but both of them felt the relief that one feels when a very close call has been narrowly averted.

"What… was that?" Draco gasped. He was holding a stitch in his side and panting for breath. He didn't think he could have made it to the portrait hole faster if he had been riding his new broom.

"I do not know," said Professor Snape. "No one leaves the dormitory tonight," he called out to the prefects who were staring in wide eyed astonishment. Never before had any of them ever witnessed fear in their head of house's eyes. It had a greater impact on their obedience than any threat he could have uttered could have possibly made.


	6. Chapter 6

_ I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that. _

* * *

The entire castle was on lockdown as Headmaster Dumbledore and the professors searched for whatever Professor Snape and Draco had encountered. Dumbledore knew quite well the dangers Professor Snape faced and how hard it was to fluster him, so he was understandably concerned that something had shaken him so badly.

All of the students were locked in their dormitories with strict instructions to remain there. To be certain this was obeyed, Dumbledore tasked some house-elves with ensuring that any students attempting to slip out for nighttime adventures were immediately caught and returned. He even found the two most stubborn and tenacious elves that Hogwarts employed and assigned one each to a Weasley twin as their dedicated watcher.

Fortunately, the incident occurred at curfew time, and the vast majority of the students were already in their common rooms when the alarm was sounded. Very few of them got any sleep, though. Three of the houses had no idea what was going on. They were only aware that there was a problem in the castle somewhere that required a security lockdown. The prefects in those houses didn't have too much trouble getting the students to wait out the lockdown in their beds, though most of the children stayed awake and speculated late into the night in their rooms.

* * *

In Slytherin, however, most of the students had seen their head of house and Draco Malfoy run into the dormitory like the hounds of Hell were hot on their trail. The rumours going through the Slytherin common room were running rampant, and the prefects were as spooked as their charges. No one wanted to go off alone to their rooms and felt there was more safety in the larger numbers remaining in the common room.

On a loveseat by the fireplace, Tracey Davis sat with her best friend, Daphne Greengrass.

"So, how has it been?" Tracey asked, being as quiet as she could be to prevent Pansy Parkinson from eavesdropping.

"How has what been?" Daphne asked in return.

"You know," Tracey smiled. "Being betrothed to Neville. I've noticed that you two seem to be keeping a pretty low profile. If I didn't already know about it, I might not even know you two were together."

Tracey was attempting to alleviate some of her anxiety by gently teasing Daphne, but she was genuinely concerned about the lack of any visible signs that Daphne and Neville were even a couple.

"You do know we're both still only twelve," responded Daphne, "don't you?"

"You'll be thirteen pretty soon," retorted Tracey. "No harm in having a little bit of fun. Not too much fun, of course, but you are allowed to be a bit romantic with your betrothed, aren't you?"

"If Neville were in Slytherin, yes," Daphne answered, sadly. "Or if I were in Gryffindor, that would be ok too. It's the mixing of the houses that has everyone up in arms about it. We've decided to try and be as discreet as we possibly can be."

Tracey understood that. The last month of school last year had been miserable for the pureblood Slytherin who had manoeuvred herself into becoming betrothed to a Gryffindor. That wasn't even including being kidnapped to be used as cannon fodder for Filch. Daphne had been completely ostracized by Slytherin House for her perceived betrayal. This year hadn't been bad for her yet, but she could understand why Daphne wouldn't want to advertise her betrothal to Neville.

"All the same," Tracey told her best friend, "you're supposed to be starting a relationship with Neville. You're going to spend the rest of your life with him. You need to spend some time together, and get to know each other."

"We did a lot of that over the summer," Daphne said, "and we send each other a lot of letters by owl here. We'll be spending a lot of the holidays either at my father's estate or at Neville's." She saw the smirk on Tracey's face. "Chaperoned, you filthy-minded lecher!"

"Well," Tracey said with a giggle, "I should hope so! After all, you are still only twelve."

* * *

Headmaster Dumbledore was meeting the majority of the professors who had searched the castle in the conference room attached to his office. Toma Kendet, who had assisted in the search at Dumbledore's request, was also present. The only personnel not yet present were Hagrid and Professor Lockhart. The defence professor, after thoroughly annoying Snape, had volunteered to check the perimeter of the grounds with the large groundskeeper.

"Everyone, please have a seat," Dumbledore said, ushering the assembled professors to the conference table. The shuffling of feet and the scraping of chairs was punctuated by the thunk, thunk of Professor Kettleburn's wooden leg.

"Let us compare notes," Dumbledore began. "What have we found that is out of the ordinary?"

"Several things," said Professor Flitwick. "First, there was a general feeling of uneasiness that several Professors commented on while in the area of that corridor. It felt like something hostile was watching us, but no one was there. The sensation faded as time passed. I believe that whatever the creature in the hallway was, it was able to create a telepathic wave of fear, likely as a defensive mechanism."

"Fascinating," said Dumbledore. "As a defence, it is certainly effective. However, I know of no creatures capable of this." He turned to Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor. "Do you have any knowledge of such an ability in any creatures?"

"No, Headmaster," Kettleburn answered. "That doesn't mean it doesn't exist, though," he warned. "There are plenty of creatures that can do unexpected things." Dumbledore turned back to Professor Flitwick.

"Please, continue," he said.

"Actually," Flitwick deferred, "I think Severus should report on this next part, it's more up his alley." They all turned to Professor Snape, who delivered his report.

"An unusual substance was found coating part of the floor in the corridor where we encountered the creature," Professor Snape reported.

"Do we know for a fact that it is a creature?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," answered Professor Snape. "The substance that was found, in fact, is the key to making that determination. I have analyzed a sample of it, and found it to be an extremely lethal and corrosive toxin, but of natural origin."

"How lethal?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I doubt," speculated Professor Snape, "that anyone who partook of it would be able to reach help quickly enough to receive it. It is lethal in the smallest of doses."

"Partook of it?" asked Professor McGonagall. Kettleburn's face reddened under his beard.

"I may have tried to lick it," he said. Every eye but the one he had left rolled at his confession. Professor Kettleburn was well known for being reckless. It had led to him having only one and a half limbs remaining.

"You say part of the floor was coated in this toxin?" Dumbledore asked, disturbed that such a substance had been brought into his school.

"Yes," confirmed Snape, "but not evenly. It appeared as if it were spilt on the floor and then something was dragged through it." 

Hagrid and Professor Lockhart came in at this point in Snape's report. Dumbledore motioned for them to both sit and looked back to Flitwick and Snape.

"Did you follow the trail?" Dumbledore asked.

"We did," Professor Flitwick answered. "Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, the poison deteriorated extremely rapidly. It had completely evaporated long before we could trace it to its source."

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Do you have anything to report, Professor Lockhart? Hagrid?"

"No, sir" answered Hagrid. "We checked the entire grounds, the lake, and the borders to the forest. No sign of nothin' unusual."

"The same as everyone else, I'm afraid," added Professor Lockhart. "I, of course, did lend a hand to Professor Snape in investigating his mystery substance. I cannot help but think that this is a critical clue!"

"It is the only clue," grumbled Professor Snape, clearly resenting Lockhart taking credit for butting his nose in where it was neither wanted nor needed.

"Come now, Professor Snape," said Lockhart with a smile. "You mustn't blame yourself for running away. We are not all of us built for adventure, after all. Besides, who would have protected the young Malfoy boy when you fell to the beast? It was actually quite sensible of you. It is such a pity I wasn't there, though," he said. "I know the exact charm that would have revealed if anyone were hiding."

Professor Snape's only response was a cold glare that would have frozen molten steel. Professor McGonagall, who was listening to the exchange, seemed to recognize the rising danger that Professor Snape would feed Lockhart his own entrails and intervened.

"And what charm would that be, Professor Lockhart?" she asked, her tone of voice disapproving. This man may have enchanted her lions into accepting him, but he was still a long way off from being a real staff member in the mind of the Deputy Headmistress.

"Why, 'Homenum Revelio,' for starters," answered Professor Lockhart. Snape was suddenly embarrassed that he hadn't thought to check for intruders using more magic than a magelight ball. He came to the realization that the overwhelming feeling of terror had, in fact, affected him far more than he had credited. The Potions Master would have patiently sat through having every one of his teeth pulled without pain killers rather than admit that he hadn't even thought of it due to fear, though. Especially in front of Lockhart. He made a mental note to inform Dumbledore in private. There was at least one benefit to having an employer who knew all of your most embarrassing secrets. You could tell the man absolutely anything.

* * *

After all of the reports had been given, Dumbledore came to the unfortunate conclusion that whatever had been down in the corridor, it wasn't there now. With no clues other than a mysterious venom that had already evaporated, Dumbledore dismissed everyone but Toma Kendet. It was now well past midnight, but the Headmaster knew there would be no sleep for him that night.

"Master Kendet," Dumbledore began," Thank you for staying."

"Of course," said Toma.

"I wonder if you would indulge me in a walk through the castle?" Dumbledore asked. Toma agreed, and the two men left to wander through empty hallways.

"So," Dumbledore said, "it seems the warning you were given has some validity."

"Indeed," Toma agreed.

"Has Dobby made any additional contact with you?" the Headmaster asked.

"No," Toma answered. "I have been on the watch for him, but he hasn't shown himself as of yet."

"I am quite disturbed by this chain of events," admitted Dumbledore. "Warnings of imminent danger, and now a creature roams these halls armed with a dreadfully potent toxin. I fear for the safety of the children."

"Have you considered posting guards?" Toma suggested.

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore admitted, "Hogwarts does not have the staff to sustain a guard force for any length of time."

"Surely your ministry would be able to send someone," Toma said.

"That is precisely why I am not asking them for help," Dumbledore explained. "The 'someone' they would send would likely be worse monsters than the creature we would ask them to guard against." 

The Headmaster went on to explain about dementors and Azkaban prison. Toma was shocked and dismayed to learn of the conditions at Wizarding Britain's one and only penal facility.

"In our last meeting," he said, sternly, "you correctly guessed that some on the Jedi Council think of you as primitive barbarians. This is an excellent example of why they feel justified in that assessment."

"I am well aware of the uncivilized nature of the dementors," defended Dumbledore, "and I am working on ways to legislatively solve that problem. That solution is still years away, though. We need a more short term solution for the problems we face today."

"What, exactly, are you asking for?" asked Toma.

"I would like for you to join the rotation of professors who will be patrolling the school at night," said Dumbledore. "I know I have no authority over you, but if you wish to help, this is one way you may contribute."

"Certainly," agreed Toma. "If this creature appears again, however," he told the Headmaster, "I have a suggestion for an alternative to these 'dementors' your Ministry uses." 

Dumbledore and the Jedi Master continued to walk for several hours, debating and planning contingencies. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that they returned to their own quarters to get what sleep they could before dawn.

* * *

"So, what was it, then?" asked Blaise Zabini. Blaise and Theodore Nott had cornered Draco Malfoy as soon as they were alone in the room they shared. The prefects had finally put their collective foot down and ordered everyone to bed. Draco's roommates had immediately started questioning him about what he had been running away from with Professor Snape.

Draco, who would normally have been living his close call up for attention, was being surprisingly closed-mouthed about it. There were two reasons for this. First, he was not anxious for tales of how afraid he had been to start spreading, and second, Professor Snape had taken him aside and forbidden him from mentioning anything.

"I don't know, alright?" he finally burst out. They had been badgering him for an hour, and his patience was at an end. "I just don't know! I felt like the worst thing in the world had noticed me, and was right behind me."

"But there was nothing there?" sneered Blaise. "You ran like a coward from nothing?" 

He believed that Draco had lost his nerve. Political manoeuvres in the Slytherin Common room were fairly common, and due to his father's influence, Draco had been at the top of the pile. With the low profile, Draco was forced to maintain, though, his standing in the common room had subsequently dropped. This incident wouldn't do him any favours, and there was a flurry of favours being given, called in, and moved on as everyone tried to adjust their position in the pecking order.

"No, there was something there, alright," Draco said. "I just don't know what it was. Neither did Professor Snape. If you think you're braver than he is, then you can go tell him you think he's a coward. Just let me know where you want the flowers to be sent for your funeral before you do. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to try to get some sleep while I can." He turned over in his bed, pulled the covers up to his eyes, and ignored any further questions. He didn't really think he'd get any sleep, though. Not with the way the shadows on the walls kept moving.

* * *

The next morning, the lockdown was lifted. The students had gathered in the Great Hall for breakfast and waited impatiently for someone to give them an explanation for what had happened. Dumbledore stepped up to the podium at the head table and addressed the students.

"Good morning," he started. "As I'm sure you are aware, there was an incident late last night which necessitated a lockdown. Someone left a highly dangerous liquid in the second-floor hallway, and it was spilt." 

Dumbledore paused long enough to fix as many students as he could with a solemn look of disappointment. "No one was injured, but due to the extremely dangerous nature of the liquid, the second-floor hallway will be off-limits until it has been thoroughly cleaned." He looked over the assembled students with a grave expression.

"I must ask that if you were involved in this accident," the Headmaster said, "that you approach a member of the staff. You will not be punished if you come to us willingly and allow us to establish some safety protocols for your project." Dumbledore paused for a moment, then allowed everyone to continue their breakfast.

For the next week, the corridor was roped off. The new caretaker, Alfred Mundy, could be seen mopping it over and over again. The students were quite puzzled as to what could possibly have been spilt that was so potent it needed that much cleaning before it was safe.

* * *

Before anyone could believe it, it was October. Giant pumpkins that Hagrid had grown had been harvested and turned into pumpkin pies, pumpkin bread, pumpkin juice, and any manner of other pumpkin products.

Ron Weasley was acting a lot more like his old self. He was playing chess again, and the quidditch season being on had seen him talking enthusiastically with Seamus and Dean about the different point spreads. He still withdrew into himself, but the episodes were becoming less frequent. To everyone's surprise, he was doing far better in his studies than he had the previous year. The changes Hermione had championed for remained in place, and Ron was making use of them to great effect.

He practised writing with a pen nightly, and his handwriting improved dramatically as a result. Having a detailed written copy of the class lecture was benefiting everyone. While he doubted he would ever be in the running for top of the year, he at least took solace in the fact that he was no longer fighting Crabbe and Goyle for the bottom spot.

Ginny Weasley, on the other hand, was becoming more and more withdrawn as time went on. Harry was well aware of her interest in him, as she could hardly be in the same room as him without stealing glances his way when she thought he wasn't looking. She spoke less and less as time went on, though, and seemed to be spending more time writing in her diary than interacting with her classmates.

Hermione had tried to break her out of her shell by asking her to join them at meals, but Ginny would just shake her head and dart away. She would occasionally talk with Luna Lovegood, whom she knew from home. They had played together as children, and Ginny knew that Luna would never judge her no matter how silly her problem.

She had been dismayed when Luna was sorted into Ravenclaw. She even contemplated pleading with the sorting hat to put her in Ravenclaw, too. She decided, though, that there would be more trouble with her family than she was prepared to start if she was the first Weasley in who knew how many generations to not be sorted into Gryffindor. Just before her name was called to be sorted, she decided not to ask the hat to put her in Ravenclaw.

As it turned out, she didn't need to. The hat, having read her mind, informed her that there had been, in fact, eight generations since a Weasley was sorted anywhere but in Gryffindor. It also told her that it wasn't about to break the trend with her. It advised her to be patient. She would find friends in time.

She did miss Luna, however. If she had known at the time how little interaction there was between houses, she would have argued with that hat for longer. All other things being equal, as a pure-blood, she should have had a head start to her magical education. She should have had a network of friends forged prior to starting school. Ginny was extremely sheltered, though. She really didn't know anyone else at Hogwarts except her brothers, and they all pretty much ignored her. She honestly thought she'd have gone out of her mind if she didn't have her diary to talk to.

* * *

On a Sunday afternoon in mid-October, Harry and Hermione made their way up the winding path to the owlery to visit with Hedwig. Harry had the ulterior motive of escaping from the attention and camera of Colin Creevey. The young boy had latched onto Harry Potter as his hero and was constantly trying to take his picture or join in on whatever Harry was doing at that moment.

As they entered the small building at the very top of the castle, they realized they were not alone. Luna Lovegood was petting a dozen owls that had lined up to either side of her. The owls had a rotation system going on, where two of them would be petted for a few minutes, then would move to allow the next two owls in for their turn while they went to the end of the line and queued up. The girl was keeping up a constant stream of conversation with the birds.

"Daddy told me we'd be going to Switzerland to search again this summer," she said. "and you know how nice Switzerland is. You've never been to Switzerland? Perhaps I'll send you with a letter to somebody there. I don't personally know anyone in Switzerland, but that won't matter. I'll just address it to 'Hans,' and you can drop it off with whichever Hans in Switzerland you like the best. Oh, hello!"

Luna noticed Harry and Hermione staring at her. Unperturbed, she stood up and approached the two Gryffindors.

"I'm Luna Lovegood," she introduced, holding her hand out.

"Hi, Luna," Harry said. "I'm Harry Potter." They shook hands for a moment, and Luna stood looking around her like she was waiting for something.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione added. Luna smiled and shook Hermione's hand, as well.

"Don't worry," Luna said to Hermione, "I won't ask him to touch me. Now that I've shaken his hand, I think my wrackspurts will be greatly diminished."

"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"I was just talking with my friends," Luna continued as if she hadn't said anything unusual at all. "I don't know their actual names, and since I don't speak owl, and they don't speak English, I've had to give them names just for me."

She began pointing at different owls and naming them.

"That one is Hooty, he talks a lot, and this is Dewdrop, and Stormy…" Luna said, rattling off names and pointing at owls. "... and this beautiful girl is Snowy," she finished.

"Actually," Harry said, "her name is Hedwig." Luna looked disappointed.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Pretty sure," Harry confirmed. "I belong to her, after all."

"Well, I suppose I could call her that," Luna said, "but do you think she would mind if I continued calling her Snowy when I'm here by myself?"

Hedwig gave Harry a look that clearly communicated that this girl could call her whatever she wanted. She gave good pets, and please don't mess this up.

"I think that would be fine," said Harry.

"My friend Lisa would tell me I'm babbling now, and it was your turn to talk," Luna said.

"Which one of these is Lisa?" asked Harry.

"Lisa is not an owl," Luna said to Harry, speaking a touch slower like you might to a person who was slightly crazy enough to mistake an owl for a person. "She is a Ravenclaw."

"Oh," said Harry. "I'm sorry."

"It's perfectly understandable," Luna told him. "After all, Ravenclaws are also called eagles, so maybe you were just confused."

"I certainly am that," Harry said.

Harry and Hermione spent a few more minutes, petting Hedwig and chatting with Luna. Fortunately, the strange girl relaxed some during the visit, and they found they quite liked her.

Harry got the distinct impression that she wore this crazy persona like a garment, hiding who she truly was. He caught a few glimpses of her true self a couple of times during their conversation. He got the impression of a vulnerable girl who had been hurt in the past.

In anyone else, her deception would have sent off alarm bells in his head, but he could sense no malice at all in this girl. He really hoped this Lisa friend of hers was a true friend. While Luna was very strong in one way, she seemed incredibly fragile in another. Eventually, Luna said goodbye and skipped her way out to go to dinner.

"That was…" Harry began.

"Odd," Hermione finished. "Do you think she's ok?" Hermione asked.

"I think so," Harry said, thoughtfully. "Hedwig certainly does," he added. "I think we should be her friend. Even if I don't always understand what she's saying, I have the feeling that it's important."

Hermione smiled, and taking Harry's hand, they walked together to dinner.


	7. Chapter 7

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Halloween day was rainy and cold at Hogwarts. It was one of those days when no one seemed able to get warm. Even Professor Flitwick wore a scarf as he began his Charms lesson.

"Good afternoon, class!" Professor Flitwick called out. He was in his usual teaching spot, standing on a stack of books on top of his desk.

"Good afternoon, Professor Flitwick," the class answered.

"Today," Professor Flitwick said, "we will be learning one of the most important spells that you will ever learn. It is absolutely critical to any career in the magical world. It is the general-reversal spell." Professor Flitwick pointed his wand at the blackboard behind him, and a series of diagrams appeared, showing the proper wand movements.

"The incantation," lectured the tiny professor, "is 'Finite Incantatum,' and I must emphasize how important it is to pronounce that correctly. Now, who can tell me what the general-reversal spell is used for?" Professor Flitwick was pleased with how many hands went up to offer an answer. "Mr. Weasley," he said, selecting Ron.

"It stops any magic effects that are on something," Ron answered, "or somebody."

"Correct," confirmed professor Flitwick. "Take five points. If you know exactly what spell you'll be cancelling, and it's a fairly simple one, you can use the shorter version by just using "finite.' If there is any doubt, though, use the full length. I recommend using the full length version at all times, anyway. Correcting an ill thought out shortcut almost always takes far longer than doing things proper to begin with."

Professor Flitwick levitated an assortment of objects to the students desks. There were dancing teacups, snowglobes with blizzards raging inside, rubber balls that were changing colors constantly, and any number of other, similar objects.

"Your task for this class is to cancel the spell on the object now on your desks. I will be going around that classroom reapplying the charms as you remove them. Go ahead and start!"

Professor Flitwick wandered around the room while the students worked. He corrected a few who had reversed the wand movement and were actually enhancing their objects spell to make the situation worse. He came to Harry's desk, where the young Jedi was doing a fine job cancelling the snowstorm in his snowglobe.

"Ahh, Mr. Potter," said Professor Flitwick, "and how are you today?"

"Just fine, Professor," Harry answered back. Flitwick leaned a bit closer so he wouldn't be overheard.

"I wonder if you've worked at all on that experiment we tried last year," he inquired. "Do you remember?" Flitwick was referring to the time he had taught the Padawan how to repair the glass Harry had thrown himself through to get to a duel with Master Amani on time. Harry had demonstrated an unusual ability to almost fly during the descent, and Professor Flitwick was quite intrigued by the possibility.

"I have, a bit," answered Harry. "I can do it for longer than I did before, but it's still pretty tiring."

"Well," said Flitwick, "if you ever need a quiet place to practice, you might consider practicing here. As long as class isn't in session, this classroom is always empty. It might be a good idea to get that flying thing down pat," Flitwick suggested.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "I'll do that."

* * *

The Halloween Feast was rather over the top this year. Harry learned from Percy Weasley that Halloween was usually celebrated with far more festive events than the simple feast they had partaken in the previous year. Percy explained that since Harry's first Halloween at Hogwarts also coincided with the ten year anniversary of You-Know-Who's downfall, it had been decided that a simple, more solemn affair would be more appropriate. This year they were doubling up on the fun to make up.

As Harry and his friends entered the Great Hall, they found the place was illuminated by lanterns made from the shells of the giant pumpkins Hagrid had grown. They were the largest pumpkins anyone had ever seen. Each one was able to hold three grown men inside them. Or one Hagrid.

The feast consisted of turkeys, hams, roast beef brisket, and every side dish you could name. The Toad Choir, under the direction of Professor Flitwick, performed a concert before the food was delivered.Dinner was accompanied by a group of gnomes whom had been hired to play live music.

Professor Flitwick even got Professor McGonagall to let her hair down long enough to transfigure some leftover ham and turkey bones into a troupe of skeletons that he then charmed to tap dance. Everyone ate more than their fill, including Harry. No one ate more than Ron Weasley, though. Not that anyone tried. Seamus Finnigan was heard loudly proclaiming that Ron was single handedly responsible for half of the dancing skeleton material.

After the Halloween feast, Ron tried to get Harry interested in a game of chess back in the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry quite liked the game, but was nowhere near as good as Ron was.

"Sorry, Ron," Harry said. "Master Toma will be on patrol tonight, and he asked me to join him. I'm going to have a nap before we begin. Maybe tomorrow night?"

Ron felt a stab of jealousy pierce him. It was something he'd been fighting against for a long time now, but lately he found himself thinking more and more about how much Harry had and how much he didn't.

Intellectually, Ron knew he had many things Harry had never known, like parents and siblings. Ron also knew the things he had were far more important than the things he lacked. But there was another side of him that he didn't like very much that wouldn't go away. A small, petty side of him that kept turning the argument around in his head. Harry didn't have to wear second hand clothes and carry second hand books. Harry didn't have to use a second hand wand.

Ron was well aware that this was not Harry's fault, but Ron didn't think that made it Ron's fault, either. In a secret part of his mind that he didn't even want to admit existed, Ron knew he didn't want Harry's money. He would be too proud to take it if it was offered. What he wanted was Harry's life. Or at least one just like it.

It wasn't fair that Harry got to do all the cool things. He got to carry around a lightsaber, and he had a special teacher that let him go out after curfew on patrols. He got to go off and have grand space adventures in the summer. Ron had to make do with low level Quidditch with his brothers using past-their-prime apples as bludgers, a muggle basketball for a quaffle, and nothing more than wishes and dreams for a golden snitch.

Ron once again swallowed the hurt and tried not to look too disappointed.

"Sure, Harry," he said. "Maybe tomorrow night."

* * *

On patrol that night, Harry and Toma were discussing Harry's classes.

"I'm doing very well in Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm not having any problems with Herbology, either, though I'll never be as good as Neville is in that class. I'm not doing as well in History or Astronomy, however."

"What is the problem in those classes?" asked Toma. "I know your interests include history, and you did very well in it last year."

"I am interested in history," Harry said. "I am not interested in a monotone recitation of goblin wars that all sound exactly the same. I honestly think a protocol droid would make a more interesting teacher."

"And astronomy?" Toma asked.

"The teacher and I are having disagreements," Harry said.

"Why am I not surprised," Toma said. "What type of disagreements?"

"The type where she teaches blatantly false information," Harry griped, "and your grade suffers if you try to correct her. Everyone who has grown up outside of this isolated, pureblood island is having trouble, Hermione included. It didn't help matters when Professor Sinistra took points off of me for insisting that black holes are real. She doesn't believe in them." Toma knew Harry well enough to know that wasn't the end of the story.

"What did you tell her?" he asked.

"Nothing too bad," Harry said. "I simply offered to take her to one in person and show her they were real."

"Harry," Toma said, "you are going to have to learn that not everyone is going to want to see the world in the same way you do."

"But the information she's teaching is wrong," Harry protested. "She doesn't believe in anything she can't see through a 70mm antique telescope!"

"It's important to realize that not everyone is going to see the truth as you know it," said Toma. "Some of those people are going to have authority over you."

"So I should just put wrong answers down?" asked Harry, offended at the thought.

"Are the answers your being asked to put down wrong," Toma asked, "or merely incomplete?If your teacher doesn't believe in black holes, she wouldn't likely put them on a test."

"Incomplete, I guess," admitted Harry."It's still wrong, though.They are real."

"What is more important to you," asked Toma, "changing Professor Sinistra's worldview, or passing her class?" Harry thought about that. "Keep in mind," Toma continued, "that just because you Taylor your answer to fit her views, that does not make what you know false."

"I don't want to fail the class," Harry said, "but I also don't want to put answers I know are wrong down either. Which should I do?"

"This path has been laid before you," Toma said. "It is not my decision to make."

"You're starting to sound like Master Yoda," Harry said, smiling.

"Thank you," Toma replied. "A higher compliment cannot be…" he abruptly stopped and looked behind him.

"I feel it, too!" Harry exclaimed, reaching for his lightsaber.

A sense of immense danger rose in the Force, followed by a wave of fear which washed over Master Jedi and Padawan alike. Both of them were able to turn the fear aside, with Harry finding it more difficult, but still managing to focus.

Two green blades ignited as the Jedi assumed defensive positions. Whatever was approaching was coming fast, if the rising intensity of the waves of terror was any indication.

Harry and Toma heard a pop from behind them. They swiveled around to see Dobby standing with his hands clutching his tea towel.

"Dobby!" Harry yelled in surprise.

"Dobby tried to warn Harry Potter!" The house-elf shrieked. "Dobby is sorry, but he must save Harry Potter!"

"What? No!" Harry cried out, realizing what was about to happen. It was too late to stop the determined elf. Dobby rushed forward and grabbed Harry's leg. With a swirl of wind, the world went black. Harry felt like someone had squeezed him through a hose.Before Harry could blink he appeared in the Gryffindor common room.

A few Seventh years, still up in a late night study session, yelled in fright as Harry and Dobby apparated into the room with a crack like a gunshot.

"Dobby!" Harry yelled. "Take me back!"

"Dobby will not!" The elf sobbed. "Harry Potter must stay safe." The distraught house-elf disappeared with another pop, and the older students stared in shock as Harry dashed out of the room.

Headmaster Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, sifting through requisition forms. It's too bad magic can't vanish paperwork, he mused to himself. At just after midnight, he looked up in alarm as a caterwauling sound pulsed through castle.

Far quicker than his age would indicate, Albus Dumbledore had his wand out and his hand reaching towards his Phoenix. Fawkes knew the drill, and flew at the headmaster, allowing his old friend to grab hold of his tail feathers. In a flash of flame, they were gone.

The headmaster flashed back into existence outside the Gryffindor dormitory.This was where the wards had pinpointed the exit point of an unauthorized apparition. He caught sight of Professor McGonagall running up the corridor. She had also heard the alarm and was rushing to check on her charges.

They very nearly stunned Harry Potter, who ran out of the portrait hole with his lightsaber blazing. Without waiting to answer questions, the Jedi flung himself over the railing, free falling to the entrance hall seven floors below. Dumbledore and McGonagall stared down at the Jedi in time to watch him perform a forward flip, orienting himself feet down. As he passed the third floor, Harry reached his hand out and let out a blast with the Force that pushed him over to land on the second floor stairway. He took off in a sprint down the same corridor where the creature was last encountered.

"I hate it when he does that," Minerva McGonagall said to Dumbledore, before belatedly realizing that the headmaster was already gone.

As Harry ran down the corridor, he threw all of his senses forward, searching for his master. All of the torch sconces had gone out, leaving the hallway in darkness. He could see the light of his master's lightsaber ahead, and he pushed on. He heard Headmaster Dumbledore calling his name from behind him as the old man tried to keep up. In the tiny corner of his thoughts that was all he was allowing to concentrate on anything but getting to Toma Kendet, he was impressed that the Headmaster was able to keep up with him at all. He was using the Force to enhance his speed, after all.

Staggering to a halt, Harry gaped in horror at the sight before him. Toma Kendet, his Master, his brother, his father, was standing straight and still. His still lit lightsaber was poised as if to strike, but the stroke had not been allowed to be completed. Grabbing one of his master's arms, he tried to pull it down, but it was like trying to reposition a statue. Toma Kendet stared with frozen eyes at the wall at the end the corridor. Something had been painted on the wall in front of him with some sort of acid. In smoking letters that were slowly eating into the surface of the wall spelled out an ominous message.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened! Enemies of the Heir, Beware!"

The castle was in lockdown again. Toma Kendet had been moved to the hospital wing, where he lay on a bed with his lightsaber still raised above his head. Harry had been able to turn it off, but was unable to remove it from his Master's clasped hands. The Jedi Padawan was now sleeping in a bed nearby, having been forced to take a dreamless sleep potion by Madam Pomfrey.

"I cannot believe this," exclaimed Minerva McGonagall. "What could have killed him?"

"He is not dead, Professor McGonagall," said Headmaster Dumbledore, examining the Jedi. Professor Lockhart was also leaning over Toma. He had a troubled look on his face as he tried to indent the skin on the Jedi Master's arm, to no effect.

"I concur, Headmaster," the defense professor said. "He has been petrified."

"How?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again," said Dumbledore. Severus Snape entered the hospital wing.

"I have done a preliminary analysis of the substance that was painted on the wall," the potions master said. "It is related to the toxin we found in the last encounter, but was much more corrosive. The main component, however, was blood."

"Acid blood?" McGonagall said incredulously.

Lockhart had closed his eyes in concentration, digging up a memory. "This reminds me of something I saw once in India."

"You have seen something like this before?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well, not the acid blood, no," Lockhart admitted. "But the petrifying, that I have seen before. This was, oh, about six or seven years ago," explained Lockhart. "I had been asked by the government of Magical India to go on an expedition over there. A couple of small villages had been wiped out by disease, and there was some concern that a rogue Nundu might have been breaking out of the jungle."

"I'm surprised you didn't write a book about it," snarked Professor Snape. "Natterings with Nundus, or something equally ridiculous."

"Severus," Dumbledore admonished.

"I might have, Professor Snape," Lockhart continued, "had there actually been a Nundu. The deaths were instead caused by an unfortunate outbreak of a rather deadly, but mundane disease. The muggles had the containment well in hand." He turned again to the petrified Jedi laying in a combat pose on the bed. "I am reminded, however, of the frozen village of Damangahr."

"What is this frozen village?" asked Professor Mcgonagall.

"While we were trekking through the jungle in search of the Nundu," explained Lockhart, "my guide told me of a frozen village nearby, which was quite the local mystery. We weren't having any luck finding a Nundu, so we had him lead us there." Lockhart frowned and looked down at Toma again.

"What we found in Damangahr haunts my dreams to this day," Lockhart said, solemnly. "An entire village of people had gathered on the shoreline of a lake, and had been completely turned to stone. The looks of fear frozen on the faces of those children… I don't think I'll ever get over that."

"Since I'm quite sure it only happened in your imagination," accused Snape, "I think you'll be fine."

"Severus," Dumbledore said, more forcefully, "that's enough."

"So," said Snape, "how did this supposedly happen?" He was impatient to get to the heart of the matter.

"You must understand," explained Lockhart, "that the event took place over a hundred years ago, in an out of the way little village in the Indian jungle. But, according to my guide, there was only one survivor. He was an old man who was found alone among the petrified remains of his family and neighbors. He had gone quite insane, so the story says. According to the records I was able to dig up, the survivor claims he was spared because he was ill. He had stayed in bed that morning, trying to rest. A group of children, however, had woken him by loudly shouting out that they had seen a monster in the lake."

"A monster?" interrupted an incredulous Snape.

"That's what he claimed the children said," answered Lockhart. "The village subsisted on fish that they caught in the lake. Either they were going to the lake to fish anyway, or they responded to the children's claims, but the survivor said that the entire village went to the lake as a group. Only he was left behind."

"Why would they all leave at once?" asked Snape, clearly trying to find a hole in the story.

"Damangahr was a very small village," answered Lockhart. "I only counted twenty three of the statues, so it's entirely reasonable that they would go as a group to perform the communal task of fishing."

"What happened then?" asked Professor McGonagall, getting interested in the story in spite of herself.

"The survivor claimed not to know," said Professor Lockhart. "He said they all went to the lake, but none of them ever returned. Eventually, he left to look for them, and found them all at the lake's edge, frozen like statues. He said nothing he could do could revive them. A few days after the event, someone from another village happened by and summoned the authorities. They came to the village and found him talking to the statues, pleading for them to move. They disregarded his claims, charged him with mass murder, and put him in prison for the rest of his life."

"And the Indian government just left the petrified villagers standing frozen on the edge of a lake for all time?" asked Snape, skepticism lacing every syllable.

"You don't have to take my word for it," defended Lockhart. "This is all well documented by independent sources. They turned the village into a memorial and forbid anyone from disturbing it."

"So you, naturally, went waltzing right through it," accused Snape.

"I thought you didn't believe me?" countered Lockhart. "If I didn't actually do it, then your taking offence to it is rather silly, don't you think?"

"We are dealing with an actual problem here!" thundered Snape.

"And as I am attempting to explain, this is a well documented incident of a similar type," responded Lockhart. "It is relevant."

"Enough!" Dumbledore said, sternly. "As it happens, Severus, I have also read of this frozen village, and Gilderoy's account matches the texts I have read." Snape looked mutinous, but held his tongue.

"The account I read was written by a curse breaking team dispatched by Gringotts about seventy five years ago," Dumbledore said. "They were searching for a hidden tomb near that village. I remember it specifically because they actually did find a monster in that lake." Everyone turned to him in surprise. "The tomb was guarded by a basilisk."

"But a basilisk does not petrify it's victims," argued Professor Snape, "it simply kills them."

"I have never examined a basilisk in person," Dumbledore said, "and they are rare and deadly enough that it is likely they have a few undocumented abilities. I would accept that under some circumstances, it might be possible for a basilisk to petrify it's victims instead of killing them."

"If this beast is a basilisk," countered Professor Snape, "and has been hiding in Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, then how could it be moving through the school? By all accounts, basilisks continue to grow for the entirety of their very long lives. One heralding from the days of the founders would be truly enormous. Are you suggesting that a multi-ton serpent whose merest gaze is death has been tiptoeing through the halls of Hogwarts... without detection?"

"I am suggesting, Severus," said Dumbledore with a sigh, "that we not discount theories out of hand just because we do not like them. Can you think of any other means through which anyone could be this thoroughly petrified?"

"I can think of a few potions that could cause a similar effect," answered the potions master, "though I can say for certain none of them were used in this case. There would be telltale conditions that are not present."

"Then if it is not a potion, and it is not a basilisk, then what do you believe it is?" asked Dumbledore.

"It could be an as of yet undiscovered creature, a potion I'm not familiar with, or a spell we've never heard of…" argued Snape.

"In which case," Dumbledore said, his tone indicating this discussion was at an end, "preparing for the most deadly creature that is known to exist will cause us only to be better prepared than we really need to be."

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape said, calming himself. "I apologize for my outburst."

"It's alright, Severus," Dumbledore said. "These are trying times for us all."

"Is there anything we can do for him?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"As it happens, yes," said Headmaster Dumbledore. "I approved a purchase request from Professor Sprout for the acquisition of a grove of infant mandrakes. I understand she is using them for her second year student projects. Once matured, a potion can be made which will restore our guest quite thoroughly."

"I will inform Madam Sprout that she should take over their care immediately," said Professor Snape. "With all due respect to her second years, it is now critical that those plants thrive."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said. He looked over to Professor Lockhart, who was now examining the frozen Jedi Masters lightsaber, being careful not to touch it. "And thank you, Gilderoy," the headmaster said. "You truly have an astonishing memory."

"Of course, Headmaster," Professor Lockhart said. "I only wish I was able to return him to normal now. Poor Harry is going to be rather distraught when he finds out how long it takes Mandrakes to mature."

"I will be informing the school board of this incident, of course," Dumbledore said. "I will ask for a dose of Mandrake Restorative Draught be purchased. Hopefully we can have him up and about without having to wait for Professor Sprout's plants to grow."

"I'm sure Mister Potter will appreciate that," Professor Lockhart said.

"Let's keep this information to ourselves, for now," the headmaster instructed. "It is illegal to import the plants or the draught without a permit. To be honest, I don't see the Wizengamot approving it for non-wizarding usage. I doubt very much that they will, in fact."

"I don't imagine," Lockhart said, "that Mr. Potter would adhere to that law, Headmaster."

"No, he would not," Dumbledore said. "I would not want him to get in trouble with the law, and if his Jedi companion were to be suddenly on his feet far sooner than he otherwise should be, it would certainly be noticed. I would be unable to protect him. I'm afraid that unless the Wizengamot approves the import of the draught, Mister Kendet will have to wait for the mandrakes we have here to mature."

Dumbledore glanced over to the sleeping Harry Potter, and tried to guess how the Jedi Wizard was likely going to respond to his master being taken out of the picture. This would have to be handled carefully.


	8. Chapter 8

I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that.

* * *

Hermione was wakened at midnight to the sounds of yelling in the common room and an ear splitting alarm. This was followed a few minutes later by an announcement that the castle was once again on lockdown. The prefects performed a bed check when the lockdown was announced. After being accounted for, many of the students congregated in the common room, unable to sleep.

"Miss Granger," called Percy Weasley. She looked over to find the prefect coming up to her. "Have you seen Harry Potter?"

"He went on patrol with Master Kendet," she answered. Percy looked annoyed.

"That's what Ron said as well," he told Hermione. "Neither Harry nor Mr. Kendet informed any of us prefects that he'd be out after curfew," he said, disapprovingly. "I'm going to have to report this to Professor McGonagall."

"I hope he's alright," Hermione said, her brow wrinkling with worry.

"I hope so, too," Percy agreed. "As the ranking prefect in Gryffindor, I'm going to be proposing a rule change. Any authorized violations of curfew must be communicated to the prefects. We should know when one of the students is out after hours, even if it's for a valid reason."

"An excellent suggestion, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall from behind them. "Consider it in effect immediately."

"Professor," Percy said, "We did a bed check when the lockdown was announced, and we have one student missing. Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter is in the hospital wing," Professor McGonagall said. She turned to Hermione, who had gone white at this news. "He'll be fine, Miss Granger," she reassured the girl. "He is uninjured, but was extremely upset that his Jedi teacher has taken ill. He will be sleeping in the hospital wing tonight."

Percy took out a parchment and noted this on it, bringing his tally up to date.

"Master Toma is sick?" Hermione exclaimed. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, noting that the girl seemed much closer to Harry's Jedi teacher than she liked. Minerva McGonagall was not inclined to call anyone 'Master,' even though she understood that in this particular case it had nothing to do with ownership.

She relented a little, seeing the look of disappointment on Hermione's face. She would never admit to anyone that she had favorite students, but Hermione Granger topped her list of them. The young girl reminded Minerva of herself at that age, minus a love of Quidditch.

"I think I can tell you that Mr. Kendet's condition is serious," Professor McGonagall said, "but he will recover in time. I have no doubt you will learn the details from Mr. Potter when you see him, but please understand I cannot give you any further information."

"I understand, Professor," Hermione said. She then sat down on a couch and started watching the clock. Professor McGonagall and Percy moved out of the earshot of the other students.

"Is there anything you can tell the prefects, Professor?" Percy asked.

"Please do not inform any of the students what I'm about to tell you," Professor McGonagall instructed. "I want all of the prefects to keep an extra vigilant eye out for anything unusual. Report anything to me, no matter how minor you think it might be. I especially need to know if any students are having or discussing excessive feelings of anxiety or fear. Additionally, the second floor corridor will be off limits again, likely until this situation is resolved."

"That's a very unusual request, Professor," Percy said, frowning.

"This is a very unusual situation, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. "I don't want any students going anywhere alone until further notice. Please organize the prefects so that all students are accounted for well before curfew begins. Both of the incidents so far have occurred near or after curfew, and I want no further students put at risk."

"What incidents, professor?" asked Percy.

"There is a creature on the loose in the halls of Hogwarts," McGonagall said. "I wish to start no rumors, but with the evidence that was left behind, I have no doubt rumors will be circulating anyway. We think we know what the creature is, but I have not been authorized to inform anyone as of yet. Nonetheless, please be extra careful, and instruct the rest of the prefects to do the same."

"It will be easier to keep watch if we knew what we were watching for," said Percy, hoping for more information.

"For now," repeated Professor McGonagall, "you are watching for what I just told you to watch for. Make sure the students don't wander, begin taking them places as a group, and watch for any signs of undue fear from them, or yourselves. It appears that those symptoms may indicate that the creature is near."

"What should we do if we encounter this creature, Professor?" asked Percy.

"Run, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, gravely. "Run. Preferably in the direction you came from. Find a professor, and report where you were when the symptoms were noticed."

"I understand, Professor McGonagall," Percy said, and went off to call a prefect meeting.

* * *

Headmaster Dumbledore was meeting his professors at an unprecedented two o'clock in the morning to discuss the situation. He once again found himself mediating between Professor Snape and Professor Lockhart.

"Even if this is a basilisk," Professor Snape said, "and I still don't think it is, then we should call in a Gringotts team. They are well trained in dealing with beasts of this nature."

"They will also expect to be well paid for their time and effort," said Professor Lockhart. "I have no direct knowledge of the finances of Hogwarts, but I doubt they're on the same level as a tomb full of treasure. Can Hogwarts afford to pay for a Gringotts hunt team?"

"It most assuredly cannot," Dumbledore answered.

"On the other hand," Professor Lockhart said with a smile, "You have the uncommonly good luck to have an expert on any manner of dangerous creatures on staff already."

"Professor Kettleburn has already stated he is unaware of a creature with these capabilities," Snape countered.

"I was talking about me," said Professor Lockhart with a frown.

"Could the goblins be reasoned with?" asked Professor McGonagall, disregarding Lockhart's offer. "I know they are usually most strict about such things, but surely, for the children…"

"I'm afraid not," answered Professor Flitwick. It was often guessed that he had some goblin blood in him. The rumors were true. He had witnessed the charity of the goblins himself as a very young boy, when he was nearly killed by the chief goblin for displaying too many human characteristics. It was only an impassioned plea from his goblin grandmother that had commuted his sentence to a lifetime exile from the Goblin nation.

"The Goblins would only tell you that if you truly valued these children then they would be worth the gold," Flitwick explained. "They'd likely increase their price accordingly, actually."

"There you have it, then," Professor Lockhart said. "Additionally, even if the school could afford to pay for a creature hunt from Gringotts, that does not address the human side of this situation."

"What are you talking about?" growled Snape.

"My dear Professor," Lockhart said in his pretentious way, "a basilisk may be able to petrify its victims, and it's venom is most assuredly potent enough to burn holes in walls. Even assuming you are correct and it is some other beast, though, I have yet to meet any creature who can paint words on walls to leave a message. There is a human element to this."

Even Snape had to admit to the obvious conclusion of that, which he did with a wave of his hand.

"Someone has opened the Chamber of Secrets," Lockhart argued, "and loosed this creature on the school. That person must be stopped."

* * *

The morning saw Harry Potter being questioned by a very tired looking Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.

"Why did you not inform anyone you would be going out on patrol with Toma Kendet?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I thought he would have told you," answered Harry.

"He did not," said Headmaster Dumbledore. "In light of the circumstances, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you not to go off alone, and certainly not past curfew anymore. You will need to be in a group at all times."

"I'm not even allowed to be alone with Master Toma?" Harry asked. He didn't like that restriction.

"Mr. Kendet will recover," Dumbledore said, "but it will be many months before he regains consciousness."

"Months!" Harry exclaimed.

Dumbledore explained about the Mandrake Restorative Draught, and the lengthy and complicated process of making it.

"It takes a great deal of time for the Mandrakes to mature," explained Dumbledore.

"Couldn't this draught be purchased elsewhere," asked Harry, "or maybe already mature mandrakes? If money is a problem I have plenty in my vault."

"Those are both very good suggestions," Headmaster Dumbledore said, "and a very generous offer. I'm afraid that is not possible, however. Mature mandrakes cannot be transplanted, and the draught is illegal to import. I'm afraid you will have to be patient."

"Why is it illegal to import?" Harry asked, confused.

"It is quite a dangerous substance when used incorrectly," Dumbledore explained. "While I'm sure you could argue that any number of equally dangerous potions and spells are perfectly legal for use and import, it does not change the fact that the law still exists for these plants."

"We'll have to see what the council says," Harry said. "I'm going to have to report this."

"I understand," said Dumbledore, knowing that if the Jedi Master stopped communicating with the Council for months that someone would be sent to investigate. "Do you know what the Council's reaction will be?"

"That depends on so many factors that I don't even want to try and guess," answered Harry. He took out a blue cube that Dumbledore recognized as a Holocube. Placing it on the table in front of him, Harry pressed a button on the top and spoke into it.

"Padawan Harry Potter," he said, "establish secure link to Jedi Council, code four-blue urgent." The holocube began to glow, and a miniature image of a man with fleshy tendrils hanging from the back of his head suddenly appeared on the table, projected by the Holocube. He looked like a tiny ghost.

"Padawan Potter," the ghostly apparition said, "report, please."

"Master," Harry began, "My situation is currently not life threatening, but Master Kendet has been attacked and is currently… unconscious. I am told he will recover, but it will take some months before the only medicine that can help him can be prepared." The Twi'lek Jedi Master did not look surprised or dismayed to hear this.

"Has the attacker of Master Kendet been apprehended?" he asked.

"No, Master," admitted Harry. "We believe it to be an Earth creature, but it has not yet been identified."

"We require independent verification of his condition," he said. "Activate your transponder and await for backup."

"Yes, Master," Harry said.

"Check in daily and keep us informed of Master Kendet's condition. May the Force be with you," the Twi'lek said, and the hologram disappeared. Harry removed a small, silver rod from his Mokeskin pouch and twisted it. The upper half rotated until a light on one end began to blink, alternating between blue and white.

"What is that?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"It's my emergency transponder beacon," Harry said. "It will enable whomever the council sends to find me."

"And how long until this… 'back up' arrives?" McGonagall asked.

"It depends on who they send," answered Harry, "and if their already in system. It probably won't be long."

"How does this 'transponder' work," asked Professor Dumbledore, looking it over.

"It sends a signal that is detectable by anyone who knows the frequency to listen for it," Harry explained. "The position of the transponder then appears on their map, allowing them to find it."

"But the castle is unplottable," Professor McGonagall protested.

"Unplottable?" Harry asked.

"There are enchantments," McGonagall explained, "that can make an area unplottable, so that it does not, and cannot, appear on any map."

"Then those enchantments either don't work on Republic tech," Harry told her, "or they simply don't work at all. We found this castle before I came here last year, and I saw its location on a topographical map we studied on the journey to Earth. Show me a map of this part of the Earth and I can point to where we are right now." McGonagall looked shocked and distressed.

"We will have to discuss this at a more convenient time," Dumbledore said. "The backup that Mr. Potter has summoned is something Mr. Kendet and I have already discussed. If it is what I was informed of, they will be here in less than an hour." Dumbledore have Harry a look of mild disappointment. "I do wish, however, that I were asked before you activated that device."

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," Harry apologized. "I received an order from the Jedi Council. As long as I am a Jedi, I must obey the Council."

"Well, what's done is done," said Dumbledore with a sigh. "We should go and prepare for additional guests," he said to Professor McGonagall. "Quite a few of them, in fact."

* * *

"Mobilize! Mobilize! Mobilize!" Sarge yelled into his commlink. He put his helmet on over his head and watched as its display booted up.

"What's the story, Sarge?" A voice sounded in his ear. It was one of his troopers, a heavily muscled man nicknamed Shooter by the rest of Blue Team. Blue Team was part of Green Squad. The Squad was a Rapid Response Assault Team, usually just called a RAT Team. They had been on standby on a dinky little grey moon for three months, and the call to action was welcomed.

"General Kendet has been incapacitated," Sarge said, knowing his entire team of five troopers was listening. "We are to secure the site, render what medical aid we can, and follow any additional orders from Commander Potter, who is stationed on site."

"We're answering to a kid?" asked Blaze. He was the demolitions expert on his team. It was the custom in Green Squad to not use your real name. The team you were assigned to typically gave you a nickname within minutes, and you were then known by it for life. It really only got confusing with the Sergeants. There were two of them, and they both had the nickname 'Sarge.' All confusion ended once combat started. Then they only referred to themselves by their numbers. Sarge became Blue Lead. The other Sarge became Red Lead. Each of their troopers had an assigned number. Blaze, for example, was Blue-3.

"It's a Jedi kid," Sarge corrected.

"Alright, then," answered Blaze. They had all met General Kendet and Commander Potter when the two Jedi escorted the RAT team into the system three months ago.

The team was assembled in minutes, and reported their status to the Commander. Within moments, Sarge's display overlay changed, the icon indicating his team turned from amber to green, showing that they were now listed as ready to drop.

Green Squad was composed of a Commander, two pilots, two medics, an engineer, and two teams of six troopers, each led by a sergeant. Twenty soldiers, all crammed into a troop transport and left with nothing to do but read tech manuals on an uninhabited moon.

The design of the BT-7 Thunderclap transport was guaranteed to accommodate that number for an indefinite period of time. Sarge was willing to bet that whomever had written those specs had never tried it.

His display showed that his was the first team reporting ready, much to his satisfaction. As he smiled about that, Red Team reported in, their icon changing to green. The Commander and the medics all indicated ready less than a minute later and every soldier was ready to drop.

The two pilots were already in the cockpit, ramping up the engines. While they were officially part of Green Squad, they generally saw no real action aside from a hot drop or pickup in a combat zone. They were given the nicknames Wings and Blondie. The troopers tended to not be very creative in their selection of nicknames.

Blondie was one of three women in Green Squad, and had, unsurprisingly, blond hair. Another woman was Doc, one of the combat medics. She was really nice, and a treat to look at, but she wouldn't put up with any shenanigans from the troopers. She wouldn't put up with anyone keeping her from concentrating on a patient, either. Sarge had even seen her go head to head with the Commander and get away with it, mostly because she was trying to keep his troopers alive. Finally, there was Ice, a weapons specialist trooper in Red Team. She had short cropped white hair, and a cold attitude.

Sarge used to be jealous of Red Sarge, as he thought of the other man, for being assigned Ice. Then he found out why she was called that. There wasn't enough warmth in that woman to melt ice. Fraternization between the troops was strictly forbidden in any case. Anyone caught fooling around was out of Green Squad. No warnings, no second chances. No trooper would risk that. Green Squad was elite. It was a privilege to be allowed to serve in it.

As soon as all the status lights were green, Wings announced liftoff, and the transport shot up from the surface to begin a powered ascent from Earth's moon. It would normally take a few hours to make a journey of this distance, but an emergency mobilization called for a full military power drop run. It was a little hard on the engines and the airframe, but that's what engineers were for. It was also a little hard on the Troopers. Sarge made the mistake of commenting on this shortly after he was promoted to take over Blue Team, and in response he was asked if his team was out of first aid kits.

Thirty eight minutes after launching, the BT-7 was descending over Commander Potter's transponder beacon in a roar of sound. Some fighter jets from one of Earth's militaries had tried to catch them, as their entry into Earth's atmosphere had been anything but subtle. Much to the everlasting fortune of the pilots of the little aircraft, they swiftly lost contact with the transport. The BT-7 transport was used by Rat Teams for good reason.

A large, fortified castle was their obvious destination. The transport touched down on the grass in front of the castle. As it's landing gear made contact, the restraints keeping the troopers from bouncing all over the cabin released. The ship opened itself, both side walls lifting to allow the troopers to spill out to either side. In ten seconds, all eighteen soldiers were on the ground. The moment the Commander called "Clear!" over the comms. The transport detached a storage unit from its underside and lifted again. It would wait a short distance away, ready to provide air support or a pickup if called for.

* * *

Commander Trip Dameron was a tall, thin man with a head full of thick, black hair under his combat helmet. He had served in several of the civil wars the Republic kept getting itself into. You couldn't jam a quarter million systems together and not get civil wars. There was always a job for Troopers.

Trip was a pilot, and had served as the lead flyer for Green Squad until his predecessor got hit with a blaster during the last combat action Green Squad had seen. He had been promoted to replace him, and ended up relinquishing his nickname of Wings to his copilot. There was almost always a Wings as a pilot of Green Squad. It was tradition.

Now he was Commander Trip Dameron, having earned his real name back with his command. He was looking forward to testing his abilities in action. As soon as his squad was deployed from the transport, he ordered them to set up a perimeter. Trip saw a group of people walking towards him, noting that Commander Potter was not among them. He indicated to his squad to stay alert and to let the group of locals approach the squad.

* * *

Harry Potter watched the transport land. He joined the group of professors who were heading out to greet the new arrivals.

"Where do you think you're going, Potter?" asked Snape in his silky smooth voice.

"You're going to need me with you, Professor," Harry said. "I recognize that transport. Master Toma and I escorted it on our way to Earth. With Master Toma not available, those Troopers are under my command until a higher ranking Jedi arrives. They'll only take orders from me unless I direct them otherwise."

"They will do as they are told, Mr. Potter," Snape said, "and so will you, if are to remain here at Hogwarts." His voice had lost all of the false civility he had acquired in the past year, and he made no attempt to hide his impatience.

Dumbledore, not wanting to encourage Snape's hostility, nonetheless agreed with him.

"We can handle this, Mr. Potter," he said. "Please remain in the castle." With that, Headmaster Dumbledore strode over the lawn to the soldiers in white armor that had just leapt out of the strange vessel. Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Lockhart joined him.

"Are you sure we shouldn't bring Mr. Potter with us?" asked Professor Lockhart. "He did say he could give orders to them."

"I do not take orders from students," answered Professor Snape, "and I will not abide Potter having a private army at Hogwarts. Their presence here is entirely inappropriate."

"Now Severus," Dumbledore said, placatingly, "I'm sure there is a compromise to be found." Snape rolled his eyes.

As Headmaster Dumbledore and his professors walked up to the Commander, who was clearly identified with an orange decoration on his left shoulder, the troopers allowed them to enter the formation. They closed around the party, careful to keep their lines of sight clear.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore greeted.

"Where is Commander Potter?" Commander Dameron asked. His voice was filtered, sounding like he was talking in a bucket. In fact, he was speaking into a microphone. Under normal circumstances, a translator program would process his words into whatever local language was appropriate as he spoke it. It was a fantastic bit of tech that was being wasted on this mission.

All of the Troopers in Green Squad had learned English through an RNA transfer course several weeks before they departed. They hated the sickness that went with it, but it provided a much greater depth of understanding than a translator could ever give.

"Mr. Potter is here," answered Dumbledore. "May I ask whom you are?"

"Take us to him," the soldier ordered. His white shell armor was quite impressive. It covered him from head to toe, but still provided him with full movement. It also completely obscured his face. The idea was to intimidate by removing any sign of emotion or sympathy.

"You cannot give orders to us…" Professor Snape started to say advancing on Commander Dameron as he spoke. He made the mistake of approaching Commander Dameron a little too aggressively, though. Snape's voice cut off and he froze as twelve black, heavy duty blaster rifles were raised and pointed at his head. The troopers didn't fire, but it was clear they would not allow their commander to be threatened.

"Come now, gentlemen," said Professor Lockhart to the Troopers, in a calm, yet firm voice. He had both his hands visible, but did not have them fully raised. His posture was one of confidence, but not aggression. "Surely you must understand that we cannot just take you to a student without knowing who you are or why you are here, don't you?" he asked. "That would hardly be sensible."

The lead trooper raised his hand up in a fist, and all of the troopers lowered their weapons. "We are Green Squad, of the Republic Troopers," the lead soldier said. "I am Commander Trip Dameron. The Jedi Council sent us to examine General Kendet, provide what aid we can, and obey the orders of Commander Potter. We require that you take us to him now." The statement was made in a way that was far more acceptable then his previous order, but the underlying threat was clearly present. Commander Dameron would brook no further delays.

"Very well," agreed Dumbledore. "But I must ask that you keep your weapons lowered whilst you are on these premises," he added. "This is a school, and as Professor Lockhart has said, there are students here. Understand that I will allow no threat to them. Raise your weapons to one of my students, and we will have a reckoning."

"It will be as you say," Commander Dameron said. Dumbledore did not care to guess what part of what he had said that Commander Dameron was referring to, his order to not raise their weapons, or the reckoning.

The Troopers parted to allow the professors to pass, then fell into a loose formation behind them.

* * *

Professor Snape was livid. He tried to keep his face neutral, but his insides writhed with fury. He had been shown up on several occasions now by that insufferable Gilderoy Lockhart. Now, the Defense Professor had talked down a dozen armed soldiers when Snape had provoked them into almost attacking. Of course, the end result was that Potter would get to keep his little army.

Snape had not read all of Lockhart's books, but who could? The man was as prolific with words on paper as he was using his mouth. Snape kept his face as still as stone as walked back to the school. He would find a way to show the entire school that the man was a fraud, he thought to himself.

* * *

The professors led the Troopers into the entrance hall of the school, hurrying along any students who were heading into the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry Potter was standing in the entrance hall with Hermione and Neville. The two had joined him while the Professors had been talking with the Troopers. As they gained sight of him, the squad immediately abandoned their escort and stood before Harry at attention.

"Commander Potter," Trip said, raising his fist to his chest and saluting. "Green Squad reports as ordered, we are at your command."

"Thank you, Commander," Harry said, returning the salute. "General Kendet and I were attacked last night by an unknown creature." He went over the details as he knew them.

"Our orders are to give what medical aid to General Kendet that we can," said Trip, "secure this site, and follow your command."

"General Kendet is in the hospital wing," Harry said. "For now, please follow any orders you are given by Headmaster Dumbledore, unless they violate your prime directives. If he gives any order that does, please defer to me."

"Yes, sir," Trip confirmed. He turned to Dumbledore. "Please have one of our medics escorted to General Kendet," he said. "While they are examining him, I'd like to take a look at the scene of the attack, with your permission, sir."

"Of course," the headmaster said. "The hospital wing is this way." Dumbledore turned to Harry. "There's no reason for you to skip breakfast, Mr. Potter. Professor Snape and I will take the medic to the hospital wing, and Professors Lockhart and McGonagall can show the commander to the second floor corridor."

"Blue Team," Trip ordered, "You're on protection detail. Stick with Commander Potter. Doc, check out General Kendet. Everyone else, you're with me."

Blue Team moved into a formation near Harry. A short, pretty woman with shoulder length brown hair walked up to Dumbledore. She wasn't wearing the bulky armor of a trooper, but was armed with a small blaster pistol. She had an impressive amount of medical gear slung over her shoulders and in a compact backpack.The rest of the squad moved with Commander Dameron and followed after McGonagall and Lockhart.

"What should I call you, my dear," Dumbledore asked Doc as they walked to the hospital wing. He indicated to Professor Snape that he should help carry some of her bags. Snape took the bags she was carrying on her shoulders, knowing better than to protest.

"Thank you," Doc said to Professor Snape. "Just Doc is fine," she answered Dumbledore. "We don't generally go by our real names an awful lot. The Commander is an exemption to that rule."

"I feel I must insist," Dumbledore said. "I don't believe I will feel very comfortable with 'Doc.'"

"If you insist, you can call me Doctor Silva," she said. "Just don't be surprised if none of the Troopers do."

"Very well, Doctor Silva," Dumbledore said. "Here we are." They walked into the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey immediately took offense at Doc's presence.

"I'm sorry," the medi-witch said, "But I must insist on restricting visitation to family only."

"How about his primary care physician?" Doc asked. "Surely you would allow a qualified healer to examine her own patient?"

Madam Pomfrey was taken aback by Doctor Silva. She usually ruled this ward with an uncompromising will, but Dumbledore was looking at her with that face he made when he wanted her to go along with something she didn't want to. All twinkling eyes and a small smile as he pretended to be in charge of people she was sure he wasn't in charge of.

"Please show Doctor Silva to Mr. Kendet, Poppy," the Headmaster asked.

"Very well," Madam Pomfrey relented. "There's nothing anyone can do for him until the Mandrake's are ready," she said, "but have it your way. He's over here."

Doctor Silva was disconcerted to see General Kendet with his lightsaber in his hands. He was not lying in bed like a patient. Instead, it looked like someone had taken a mannequin, positioned it in an action pose and thrown it on the bed. Doc took a scanner out of her bag and started moving it up and down the General's body. She was reading the results on a portable screen she had placed on the bed. It projected numbers and strange symbols above his body, telling Doc about the function, or lack thereof, of whichever bodily system she wanted to check.

"There's nothing here," she said, puzzled. "No heart rate, no blood pressure, nothing. But all my instruments insist he's still alive."

"Well," exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, "of course he's still alive! He's been petrified, not killed." She was peeing with mistrust at the strange numbers and symbols the scanner was producing.

"It's not the same thing as carbonite hibernation," Doc said, taking no note whatsoever of Madam Pomfrey's excitability. "That method still leaves a tiny fraction of the metabolism running. This is a perfect hibernation."

"Carbonite?" Madam Pomfrey asked, looking towards Dumbledore and Snape, both of whom looked equally mystified.

* * *

The Commander, the other medic, the engineer, and Red Team were looking over the spot where Toma was found. Fixer, the engineer, was looking over the message that was etched into the wall by the acid blood substance. Rev, the medic, was running a scanner through the air to try and detect the source of the feelings of anxiety that was keeping the troopers on edge.

"It would seem that this feeling of fear is the only warning that the basilisk is coming," Professor McGonagall said, "and it lingers for some time after it is no longer in the area."

"That's a strictly defensive weapon," Commander Dameron said.

"I beg your pardon?" McGonagall asked.

"If it were an offensive weapon," explained Trip, "the creature wouldn't turn it on till it wanted to paralyze a victim. Since it apparently turns it on well in advance of its arrival, it's likely hoping to scare anyone away so it doesn't even have to fight. You said both incidents happened in the this corridor?"

"Yes," confirmed McGonagall. "Clearly the entrance to the Chamber must be somewhere in this hallway," she said, not wanting the troopers to think she couldn't deduce anything on her own.

"Professor McGonagall, please tell me everything you know about basilisks," the Commander requested.

* * *

Harry had finished telling Hermione all about the patrol, including what had happened, the waves of terror, Dobby's reappearance, his being whisked away to the Gryffindor Common Room, his subsequent dash back to his Master, and what he found there.

"If only Dobby hadn't apparated me away!" he said. He was constantly having to take breaths to control his anger. That was the path to the Dark Side.

"But you cannot apparate or disapparate on Hogwarts grounds!" Hermione protested. "There are wards against that very thing."

"They keep telling me that things we've already seen happen are not possible," he said with a small smile. "Toma and I have already viewed Hogwarts on a map, too, and that's supposed to be impossible."

"Hmm…" Hermione mumbled in reply. She was lost in thought as she tried to figure out the loophole in the magic. Eventually, she had to give up. It was either believe Harry, or believe Hogwarts: A History. The book didn't stand a chance against that comparison.

* * *

A few days later, there was very little that had changed. Toma was still petrified. Doc was unable to determine how it was done, or any method to reverse it. She continued to monitor his progress, or lack thereof, but there was very little she could do for him.

Blue team had broken into two shifts of three Troopers each. One team would be 'on' from sunup to sundown, and the other would take over at dusk. Blue Sarge stayed on a swing shift to stay with each team for half of their shift. They were as discrete as they could be, letting Harry have his space while still being on hand to provide assistance if required. They still generated a lot of attention from the student body.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville visited Toma daily. There was no change in his condition. Madam Pomfrey had agreed that Doc and Rev could assist her in the Hospital Wing as long as they deferred to her for any treatments they dispensed. Since the Hogwarts medi-witch had no faith whatsoever in the medical devices the medics had brought, that really just meant providing basic first aid until Madam Pomfrey could get to the student. Doc was quite interested in magical medicine, and watched carefully everything Madam Pomfrey did, and performed what scans she could.

Harry had reported to the Jedi Council again, and they had negotiated with Dumbledore to accept the Trooper's presence until Master Kendet regained consciousness. The alternative was for Green Squad to take Harry back to Coruscant with them.

With Green Squad active, the Jedi Council decided to not send additional Jedi backup as long as Harry stayed in touch by Holocube. Harry voiced his concern that this would effectively halt his Jedi training for several months, but the council felt that having Harry experience his first command of troops was a valuable lesson.

Commander Dameron and Red Team bivouacked themselves in an empty classroom off of the closed off corridor. If there were any further incidents, he wanted them to be close at hand.

With Dumbledore's permission, Wings, Blondie and Fixer parked the transport in an out of the way courtyard. This provided relatively easy access to the transport for the Troopers who were off duty. Not having to provide housing for the Troopers went a long way in keeping Dumbledore happier with the situation.

Dumbledore was not happy with the situation, though. He felt he was backed into a corner with the Jedi Council threatening to remove Harry Potter if he didn't accommodate their every whim. So far, the Troopers had accomplished nothing, and there was only so long Dumbledore would tolerate their presence.

Professor Snape was absolutely livid. He refused to accommodate the Troopers in his classroom, and was successful in convincing Dumbledore to ban them from any classes. He argued that the Troopers would be a distraction. The Troopers agreed to wait in the hall while Harry was in class, which Dumbledore had suggested as one of those perfect compromises in which no one gets what they want and everyone is unhappy with the result.

The writing on the wall that had been etched into the stone had, of course, leaked to the student body, as Professor McGonagall knew it would. There was a rush on the library as students tried to look up anything they could find on The Chamber of Secrets. It wasn't much.

* * *

The days got colder, and time marched into December with little change. The castle was decorated for the upcoming Christmas celebrations. One day, there was a flurry of excitement as notices appeared on the bulletin boards in every common room inviting the students to join the dueling club.

"Can you all see me?" Lockhart called out as he took the center stage. "Can you all hear me?" He gazed around at the assembled students. "Excellent!" he beamed. The stage was in the Great Hall. The house tables had been pushed against the wall to make room.

"Now," he addressed the club, "in light of recent events, Headmaster Dumbledore has granted me permission to start up this little dueling club to train you all up in case you ever have to defend yourselves as I have on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works."

Lockhart gestured to the side of the stage. "Allow me to introduce you to my assistant, your very own Professor Severus Snape!"

Snape walked onto the stage, his black robes swirling around him.

"He tells me," Lockhart continued," that he knows the tiniest little bit about dueling and has graciously agreed to help me demonstrate some dueling techniques." Lockhart saw the look of alarm that suddenly flashed through the crowd. "Do not fear!" he reassured the club, "you will still have your potions master when I am finished with him."

"Uh oh!" Dean Thomas whispered in horror. "Look at Snape!" Severus Snape, never friendly looking, was now staring at Lockhart with murderous hatred. His black, beady eyes seemed to bore holes in the defense professor's blue cape, which Lockhart had removed and was tossing to some admirers to hold for him.

Fred and George Weasley began to quietly move through the crowd, taking bets on how long it would take Snape to utterly defeat Lockhart. The numbers indicated that no one thought it would take him very long. Harry knew that if Snape ever looked at him like that, he would seriously consider taking his friends and running for the Republic. Hermione would make a great Jedi Librarian, after all, and surely there was a place for Neville.

Lockhart simply returned Snape's glare with a smile.

"First," Lockhart instructed, "we acknowledge our opponent with a respectful bow." He gave Snape an elaborate bow. Snape pivoted his head on his neck a fraction of an inch and back and continued to glare at Lockhart.

"Then," Lockhart continued, "we raise our wands in the accepted combative position." Lockhart and Snape both extended their wands, pointing them at each other. "We won't be aiming to kill, of course," Lockhart reassured the students.

"We're not taking any money on that bet," Fred Weasley whispered to the fourth year Ravenclaw whose wager he was currently registering. "It wouldn't be fair."

"Then," Lockhart finished, "on the count of three, we cast. One, two, three!"

Faster than a snake striking, Snape was in motion. He twirled his wand around and cried " _Expelliarmus_!" A golden light erupted from his wand, leaving a shockwave in its wake. It sped towards Lockhart.

" _Protego_!" Lockhart shouted, and a golden shield appeared in front of the defense professor, absorbing Snape's spell.

" _Stupify_!" Snape snarled, staying on the offensive. Lockhart dove into a forward roll, allowing the red stunner to flash above him to splash harmlessly against the wall.

" _Oppugno_!" Lockhart called out, pointing his wand at a suit of armor behind Snape. It moved forward on its own and wrapped its arms around the potions master, preventing Snape from retaliating. As Snape struggled with the armor, Lockhart pointed his wand at a Christmas tree that decorated one corner of the room. " _Oppugno_!" he yelled again, then ducked as Snape released a blasting charm on the suit of armor.

Twisted and smoking pieces of metal flew by Lockhart and into the crowd. With a quick wave of his wand, Lockhart transfigured the shrapnel pieces into flowers, protecting the students from being inadvertently injured.

"Careful, Severus," he called out to Snape, who had responded to the Christmas tree, which was firing glass ornaments at him, by setting it on fire. "We mustn't get carried away, now!" With a quick " _Aquamenti_ ," the tree was doused.

But the distraction had cost the defense professor. With a growled " _Langlock_!", Snape had rendered Lockhart speechless. Gilderoy had to move quickly to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth as he dodged and ducked an onslaught of offensive spells from Snape.

The eyes of the students were wide as they witnessed both professors doing graceful twirls, sidesteps, and on occasion even a twisting forward flip as they each tried to get the better of the other while dodging and blocking the incoming fire. Anyone who had previously imagined that a wizard's duel was a calm, organized back and forth exchange of spells had their eyes well and truly opened by the display.

Having undone Snape's tongue sticking jinx, Lockhart was back in the game. For several minutes there was a constant stream of spell casting, weaving, blocking and dodging. Finally, the defense professor connected with a unbuckling charm on Snape's boots. The loosening of his footwear was just enough to catch Snape off balance, and allowed Lockhart to hit him with the spell that started the duel, a disarming charm. Snape gasped in disbelief as his wand flew out of his grasping hand, and was defenseless against the incarcerating ropes that soon followed. The duel was over, and Lockhart had won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed the idea of learning a language through an RNA transfer course from the Star Trek novel Spock's World, by Diane Duane.


	9. Chapter 9

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

The Great Hall was silent. Gilderoy Lockhart had just beaten Severus Snape in a duel. Slowly, one by one, the students of three of the houses of Hogwarts began to applaud. They didn't go overboard. They all knew that Professor Snape would be marking every one of them that he saw and burning their grades if he could get away with it. The members of Slytherin House stood in defiance of the applause. Even the very few who didn't like Professor Snape dared not show even a hint of approval.

"Thank you, Professor Snape!" Professor Lockhart called out. He slashed his wand through the air and the ropes binding the Potions Master fell away. Snape staggered to his feet, composed himself, and retrieved his wand.

"And now," Professor Lockhart told the students, "after the duel is finished, it is sporting to shake the hand of your opponent. Show them there are no hard feelings, and acknowledge their skill." Lockhart walked over to Snape and offered his gloved hand. Snape hesitated. He knew he had to at least make a token effort. Reluctantly, he accepted Lockhart's hand which he shook very briefly before letting go.

"So!" Lockhart called out to the students. "Let's pair up, shall we?"

Professor Lockhart and a surly Professor Snape began pairing the students. Harry and Neville looked at each other and nodded, which was not missed by Professor Snape.

"I think not," Snape said, separating them. "I believe it would be far more interesting if Mr. Longbottom were to be paired with the one he is already paired with." He called over to the group of Slytherin students that were clustered together in one corner of the room. "Step over here, Miss Greengrass," the head of Slytherin House instructed. "Let's see how you fare against your betrothed."

"A lovers quarrel," Professor Lockhart said with a grin. "An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape." Lockhart ushered Neville and Daphne onto the stage and had them face each other.

"Now," Lockhart asked Snape, "what shall we teach them first? Disarming, stunning, maybe a nice jinx?"

"Perhaps it would be wiser," Snape countered, "if we first taught the students to block unfriendly spells."

"Ahhh, yes!" said Lockhart with delight. "I will teach the students the Protego charm, if you would be so kind as to teach the disarming spell, Professor Snape?"

Lockhart showed Neville the shield charm, while Snape taught Daphne how to disarm her opponent. When they were ready, they faced each other from either end of the stage.

"Bow to your opponent," Lockhart instructed. Neville gave a deep bow to Daphne, who curtsied to him. They smiled at each other.

"Now, now," chided Lockhart, shaking his finger at them as he good naturedly teased them, "This is a duel, not a date!" The pair blushed as titters swept through the watching crowd. "Wands up!" Lockhart called. Neville and Daphne raised their wands. "One, two, three, cast!"

" _Expelliarmus_!"

" _Protego_!"

Both students started to cast at the same time, but Daphne was faster. Her disarming spell slipped through just as Neville's shield was starting to form, and Neville's wand went flying.

"Good job, Miss Greengrass!" Lockhart praised. "Now switch sides and we'll go again." 

Now, Neville stood next to Professor Snape and Daphne watched Professor Lockhart as they explained the spells. It took Neville a few tries, but he eventually managed to catch her off guard and disarmed her.

"Next two, up!" Lockhart called.

The students queued up in pairs, with the professors switching some of the students around if they thought a particular pair would be an especially sporting match. Snape noticed Harry and Hermione stepping up to the stage together, and he intervened again.

"Not this time, Mr. Potter," he said. "I think it would be far more educational if you were to duel someone from my own house. Mr. Malfoy, perhaps?" He gestured at Draco, who took the stage opposite of Harry. Harry would be trying to disarm Draco first.

"Bow to your opponent," Lockhart began. To Harry's surprise, Draco actually bowed. It shocked a number of the other students as well. Harry returned the bow, and they raised their wands at Lockhart's instruction.

On three, Harry cast a disarming spell, which successfully stripped Draco of his wand. Once Draco had retrieved it, they switched sides. Draco was fuming that he was disarmed by Harry's first try, and was determined to do the same. Harry, however, was proving incredibly quick with a shield spell. After three tries to disarm Harry, Draco decided a distraction was in order. He swung his wand down and shouted " _Serpensortia_!"

A large, brown snake with white, horizontal markings exploded from Draco's wand. It landed about halfway between the two boys. Harry was momentarily stunned into inactivity. This was far more advanced magic than Draco had ever displayed in class thus far. Draco himself looked a little shocked at what he had done. The snake began to move towards Harry with a sidewinder crawl, hissing and spitting.

"Stop!" Harry yelled at it as the snake got close to him, and for a moment the serpent halted. It wrapped itself into two C shaped coils, and stared at Harry. It kept moving, but still managed to stayed in one place. It was maintaining the double C coil, using its movement to rub the scales on one coil against the scales on the other. This produced a hissing, crackling noise that got louder as the snake sped its movements up.

"Don't move, Potter," Professor Snape said. "I'll get rid of it for you." Snape moved forward, but stopped as Professor Lockhart took out his own wand.

"Allow me, Professor Snape," Lockhart said. " _Alarte Ascendare_!" he shouted as he pointed his wand at the viper. There was a loud bang, and the snake was flung into the air. 

Harry didn't know if he intended to blast the snake away from him, or if he used the wrong spell, but he suddenly realized that the snake was going to land right on top of him. The Force surged in his mind and guided his hand up as the snake descended onto him, it's fangs bared. Harry caught the two foot long snake, and was holding it at arm's length.

Unfortunately, Harry was unaware of how far a snake can contort itself to bite. With a hiss, the viper twisted its neck around and struck Harry on his hand. He felt it's fangs enter his skin, and the burn of the venom being injected into the veins seared his flesh. Harry screamed in pain. Looking past the snake, he caught a glimpse of Draco standing on the stage with wide open eyes and a horrified expression on his face.

" _Vipera evanesca_!" Snape cast, pointing his wand at the viper. An orange drop of flame sped towards Harry and struck the snake in its very middle. The snake squirmed in Harry's hand as it quickly disintegrated into a cloud of black dust.

Harry stared at his hand in shock. Two puncture wounds were on the top of his left hand, bleeding. The blood was thin and runny, and refused to clot. Professor Snape ran to Harry and took him by the shoulders. Professor Lockhart also rushed to Harry's side, apologizing over and over.

"Lie down," Snape commanded, "and do not move." Harry obeyed. The potions Professor examined the wound, then dabbed his finger in the stream of blood running to the floor and smelled it.

"I will take him to the Hospital Wing," Snape announced. "Potter," he said, looking Harry in the eyes, "I am going to help you. You must not move your arm, do you understand?"

"Y. Yes, Professor," Harry stammered. Snape immobilized Harry's arm and conjured a stretcher underneath him. With a twitch of his wand, Professor Snape floated the stretcher up and hurried it out of the Great Hall. Blue Team, which had been waiting out in the entrance hall per their instructions, took up formation behind him and followed.

There was silence as everyone stared at Draco Malfoy. Then, Hermione strode up to him and slapped him in the face.

"Miss Granger!" Professor Lockhart said in shock.

"Oh, shut up!" she shouted at the defense professor. She burst into tears and ran out of the Great Hall to follow Harry.

Draco didn't protest, and he did not retaliate against Granger. He just stood there and stared at the blood on the floor as he felt the stinging in his cheek where the red imprint of Hermione's hand remained. Professor Lockhart dismissed the rest of the students.

* * *

Doc was bored. There was a fairly steady stream of students that visited the Hospital Wing everyday, as they fell off of brooms, or were bitten by a carnivorous plant or were befallen by any number of other hazards of the castle. She and Rev were only allowed to perform basic first aid, however, and that was only allowed if Madam Pomfrey was busy. They spent most of their time on the holonet, researching ways to revive Master Kendet. So far, they had no promising leads.

She was surprised when the black clad Professor Snape rushed in with Commander Potter on a floating stretcher, with three members of Blue Team in tow. Her surprise didn't slow her reflexes at all, though, nor her training.

"Rev!" she yelled, "get the crash cart over here!" The crash cart was a gurney that was loaded up with medical scanners and equipment. They usually kept it out of the way, as Madam Pomfrey didn't like the electronic devices, but when the Jedi Commander came in, nearly unconscious and bleeding, then all previous agreements went out the window. Rev wheeled it near the bed which Professor Snape was levitating Commander Potter onto. Madam Pomfrey came running up, only to be stopped by Blue Team.

"What in Merlin's name is going here?" the mediwitch asked.

"Not now," Doc snapped. "This one is ours." She grabbed a scanner and began sweeping it over Commander Potter's body. "What's his condition?" she asked Professor Snape.

"He was bitten by a venomous snake," he answered.

"Left arm swollen," Doc told Rev, "two wounds in his left hand. Stop that bleeding." Rev took a quick blood sample for analysis, sprayed an antiseptic foam on the puncture wounds, and applied pressure with a bandage.

"What kind of snake?" Doc asked Professor Snape. The database of Earth flora and fauna was far from complete, but the Jedi had done a planetary study after Commander Potter had been taken in by the Jedi, and they might get lucky.

"I believe it was a carpet viper," answered Snape. Doc entered the search into her tablet.

"These wounds won't stop bleeding," Rev told Doc. She looked and saw that the sheets under Commander Potter were being stained crimson by the constant streaming of blood out of his wounds. Her tablet beeped at her and she looked at the results.

"No data on file, Rev, isolate the venom and run an scan," Doc ordered. She turned to Snape. "You wouldn't happen to have an cure for it on site, would you?" she asked him.

"Madam," he told Doc, "I am the cure." He brushed past her and sat on the edge of bed, on the opposite side that was becoming soaked with an alarming amount of blood. He gently felt Potter's swollen arm and noted the progress of the venom. The boy's arm was swollen to almost twice it's normal size and his teeth were clenched with pain. 

The Potions Professor noted blood coming from the boy's gums and collecting between his teeth. He checked Potter's eyes, and saw blood was also leaking from his tear ducts, which was turning the skin around his eyes red. The venom was working far faster than he had initially feared.

"Madam Pomfrey," Professor Snape called, "I require a bezoar and a glass of tepid water."

Madam Pomfrey, who was muttering about fancy contraptions and rude medics, already had one of the small, grey, wrinkled stones in her hand. She conjured a glass and filled it with the room temperature water Professor Snape had requested, and handed it to the potions master.

"Try to relax your jaw, Mr. Potter," he told Harry. Harry opened his mouth as a wave of pain swept through him. He screamed, and Snape shoved the bezoar in his mouth. "Drink this," he told Harry, "every drop." Snape began to pour the water into Harry's mouth, and Harry had to either swallow it or choke.

Harry drank the water, then shuddered as the venom began to be neutralized. Madam Pomfrey conjured another glass of water and handed it to Harry. Snape observed him for another fifteen minutes, and confirmed that the swelling was beginning to go down. The bezoar was doing its job.

"You will need to drink at least two glasses of water every hour for twenty four hours," Snape told Harry. "You will begin to feel better immediately, but you are not to leave this bed until Madam Pomfrey allows you to."

"I understand, Professor," Harry said.

Snape stood up and straightened his cloak. He was about to leave when he paused.

"I apologize for my role in this, Mr. Potter," he said, softly. "It was certainly not my intention for you to be injured."

"I know Professor," Harry said. "Thank you for helping me."

"You might as well come in, Miss Granger," Professor Snape called out. A frizzy head of hair peaked from around a curtain where Hermione had stationed herself. She glanced at Madam Pomfrey for permission, and upon receiving it, came to see Harry.

"You are not to stay longer than five minutes," the Mediwitch told her. "He's going to need a lot of rest." Hermione agreed. Professor Snape left without another word, and headed to the Slytherin dormitories.

"What's a 'bezoar?'" Doc asked Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

"Explain yourself," Professor Snape commanded. He was sitting at his desk in his office with Draco Malfoy sitting in the wooden chair in front of him.

"I couldn't hit him with the disarming spell," Draco said.

"And so you thought it appropriate to conjure a viper at him?" Snape inquired.

"I was frustrated," Draco said. "I wasn't thinking,"

"I think that much is clear," Snape agreed. "I believe," he said to the distraught boy, "that when I introduced that spell to you last summer, I taught you how to conjure a harmless grass snake. Would you care to take a guess as to what you just spat out of your wand in the middle of the Great Hall this evening?"

"I don't know," said Draco. Professor Snape walked to a bookshelf and pulled out an old leather book with 'Viperidae' written on the cover. He flipped it through it till he found the page he wanted and slammed it down in front of Draco.

"Echis Carinatus," Professor Snape said. "The Carpet Viper. One of the most deadly snakes on Earth." Draco looked down.

"I didn't mean to," Draco said. "All was wanted was to win the duel. How is he?" Draco asked.

"I was able to save Potter," Snape said. "but he won't be back on his feet for a few days, at least. Whether I can also salvage your Hogwarts education remains to be seen."

"I'm sorry," Draco said again. He looked miserable.

"Things are happening at Hogwarts this year, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape said in a grave voice. "The last thing we want is for you to make… a name for yourself."

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," said Snape. The door opened and Professor McGonagall walked in.

"Professor McGonagall," Snape greeted.

"Professor Snape," said McGonagall. "I am afraid I'm going to have to ask Mr. Malfoy to come with me. As his Head of House, you should come as well." She led the nervous boy and, even though he didn't show it, an equally nervous Professor Snape to Dumbledore's office.

* * *

Draco had never been in the Headmasters office before. It was quite intimidating to see the gargoyle guardian move aside for them. He would have enjoyed the ride up the moving spiral staircase under other circumstances. When they approached the inner doors to Dumbledore's office, they opened on their own to reveal his worst fear. His mother was sitting in a chair facing the Headmaster's desk, and his father stood next to her.

Knowing his father would take offense if he hesitated even in the slightest, Draco did not allow his dismay to show on his face, or in his stride. He walked up to his mother, took the hand she reached out to him, and kissed it.

"Hello, Mother," he greeted Narcissa Malfoy. He then bowed to his father. "Hello, Father," he said. His father nodded his head at him in return.

"Draco," his father said in the smooth inflection Lucius Malfoy always spoke in. "Your Headmaster was just telling us about the events that transpired in your dueling club." He looked at his walking cane and polished the snake head top. "Do you have an explanation for the actions he tells us you have taken?”

"I have no excuse," Draco said, looking down at his shoes. "I didn't mean for the snake to be venomous," he explained. "Any time I've used that spell before it's been a harmless black snake. "I was trying to distract him so I could disarm him."

"There, you see, Dumbledore?" Lucius said with satisfaction to the Headmaster. "It was an accident. A mistake made while under the supervision of your professors, I might add. Why, if it were not for that incompetent Professor Lockhart, Mr. Potter may well have been never been bitten"

He turned his gaze to Draco. "My son will apologize to the unfortunate Mr Potter,” Mr. Malfoy said, “and that should suffice for punishment for this accident."

"I'm afraid, Mr. Malfoy," Headmaster said, "that I will need to insist on a twenty point deduction and a weeks worth of detentions in addition to the apology. He was, after all, instructed to only cast a disarming charm. This is not the first time young Draco here has been involved in an altercation with Mr. Potter. I would like to drive home the fact that aggression against his fellow students will not be tolerated."

Mr. Malfoy gave his son a look to let him know that they would be discussing this topic in private. He turned back to Dumbledore.

"My, my," Mr Malfoy said, "it sounds as though Mr. Potter gets himself into quite a few scrapes, doesn't it?"

Professor McGonagall was just about to respond to that when Mr. Malfoy continued.

"I care nothing for points," Lucius said, "and if it makes you feel better, he will serve as many detentions as you like, providing it does not impact his grades, of course. There will be no official blame for this on Draco's record. I have no doubt that Mr. Potter, who has proven remarkably resilient, will make a full recovery."

Lucius Malfoy reached out his hand to his wife, who took it and rose from her seat. He gave Dumbledore a short bow that conveyed only as much respect as was socially required.

"Draco," Mr. Malfoy said to his son, "I trust this will be the last time I hear from Hogwarts about such an incident."

"Yes, Father," Draco said.

Narcissa Malfoy kissed her son on the cheek, told him he was looking too thin, and allowed her husband to guide her to the fireplace. They each took a pinch of floo powder and threw it into the flames, which turned a bright, emerald green.

"Malfoy Manor," Lucius said, enunciating clearly. Husband and wife stepped into the flames together and disappeared.

* * *

The next morning, the whispers started. The Heir. The Heir of Slytherin. Draco didn't dignify them with a response, but the whisperers, as he mentally referred to them, took that as confirmation.

He went to visit Harry in the Hospital Wing. He told the other Slytherins that it was part of his punishment, but he knew that he would have gone anyway.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. "That wasn't exactly how that was supposed to go."

"How, exactly, was it supposed to go?" asked Harry.

"It wasn't supposed to be dangerous," Draco said. "It was just supposed to scare you so I could disarm you."

"I know," said Harry.

"How would you know?" asked Draco.

"I saw your face after that snake bit me," Harry said. "With all due respect, you're not that good of an actor."

"I hope you get better soon," Draco said. "I have to go to detention, where I'll no doubt be writing until my hand completely falls off."

* * *

"What?" asked Draco, irritated. He was in the Slytherin common room that evening after detention, and had been cornered again by Blaise Zabini. His fellow Slytherin seemed to have made it his mission in life to try to keep Draco in line.

"I asked you why you bowed to Potter?" Blaise hissed. "He's a halfblood."

"We were dueling?" Draco answered, his voice trailing up as if he were asking a question. "You bow to your opponent before a duel."

"He's not worthy of being bowed to," Blaise argued. "His father, perhaps, before he married that mudblood, but not to his impure spawn."

"My father taught me etiquette long before I came to Hogwarts," Draco said. "Since your mother apparently did not go over this with you, and neither did any of the unending stream of her husbands, I'll tell you what he told me. If you do not follow the rules of the higher class, then how can you hope to rule it?"

That shut Blaise up, at least for now. Unfortunately, it did not shut the whisperers up. If anything, it made them worse. Draco was painfully aware that his father would not be pleased if he heard these rumors in his day to day social calls with the pureblood elite. Sure enough, only three days passed since the dueling club before his father's owl was dropping a letter in Draco's lap during breakfast. 

Fortunately, there was no chance of his father ever sending a howler. However mad he got, the thought of broadcasting family problems to the entire school at top volume like the Weasleys did was inconceivable. He left breakfast early to read his father's letter in the privacy of the now empty common room.

* * *

Pansy Parkinson returned to the Slytherin dormitory after breakfast, and spotted Draco sitting in a double chair by himself with a sulky expression on his face. As she went over to him, she passed Daphne, and exchanged a greeting with her.

Before Greengrass went and got herself betrothed to that Longbottom boy, of all people, she was afraid she'd lose Draco to her. It had caused a great deal of tension in their shared room. Then, after the betrothal was announced, there was the backlash of Daphne arranging her own marriage to a Gryffindor.

She knew that half of the Slytherin girls were of the same opinion as all of the boys on that score. They felt that Daphne had betrayed them, Slytherin House, and her upbringing by tying herself to a Gryffindor whose family was dangerously close to being labelled blood traitors. The other half were still being pissy, but only because they hadn't thought of it first.

Pansy didn't care who Daphne got herself betrothed to, she was just happy it wasn't Draco. Aside from drama of the Chamber being opened, this year was going much smoother. Pansy was enjoying the peace and quiet in her dorm, and only hoped it lasted.

She sat down next to Draco. He barely acknowledged her presence, but his posture told her a lot. He wasn't irritated at her, and he wasn't raving against some other student. That left only one other source of conflict for him.

"What did he say?" she asked. Draco sighed.

"The usual," Draco said. "'I instructed you to keep a low profile,' and 'you have failed me,' and 'it would be inconvenient for me to replace you, so fix this now!'" Pansy shuddered at the implications of the words, but still smiled a little at Draco's imitation of his father. "He's obviously up to something," Draco concluded, "and it can only be about this Heir of Slytherin nonsense."

"How could he be involved in that?" Pansy asked.

"I don't know," Draco answered, "he won't tell me. Whatever it is, the school thinking I'm the Heir obviously interferes with his plan somehow."

"I thought he'd be pleased that the school thought you were were the Heir," Pansy said. "I mean, I know your not because I've studied your family history, but it's all about power and perception, isn't it?"

"But," Draco realized, "if the Heir were to kill someone, then that would bring the wrong sort of attention to the Malfoy name if everyone thought it was me."

They sat and looked at each other for a moment in silence. Draco felt like something was testing him. Like he was being watched, and whether he allowed his father to continue on his course or not was entirely in Draco's hands.

"What are you going to do?" Pansy asked. Draco thought for a few more moments.

"Enemies of the Heir, Beware," he finally said. "I'm going to do what my father tells me to do. And so are you."

It was the right thing to do, Draco thought to himself. Being a pureblood was all about tradition. It was about family. And sons did not get in the way of their father's schemes. They certainly did not go to Dumbledore and accuse their father of… what? He didn't even know. So why did it feel like he had just failed a test?

* * *

The whispers continued throughout the week that Potter was in the Hospital Wing. Draco had hoped that it would die off if he just ignored them. If anything, however, the whisperers found his silence incriminating.

He heard them outside of classrooms before he entered. They stopped the moment he walked into the room, but then they just stared at him. It really went a long way towards demonstrating that the common witch or wizard wouldn't understand subtlety if it smacked them in the face. Which it wouldn't. Because it was subtle.

The only good effect of Draco having gone to the dueling club was that Professor Lockhart seemed to have lost a little of his confidence. After his disastrous performance with the snake Draco had conjured, Lockhart's boisterous nature had taken a whole two days to recover. It did have the effect of damping his victory against Professor Snape. The Potions Master took no end of pleasure in making sure that was the case.

Draco was on a free period that Friday, wandering around and trying to stay away from the whisperers. Draco rolled his eyes at a group of first years who had seen him walk near them, squeaked, and ran out of his way. His family tree was public knowledge.

Actually, it was published knowledge. His grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, had written a book detailing the Malfoy history after Draco was born. It would have taken the tiniest amount of research to prove whether Draco was the Heir or not, but everyone just kept speculating wildly.

Remembering that book made Draco stop and think. He might be able to use that to stop these rumors and obey his father's orders. He went to the library and found the volume sitting right where it was supposed to be. Sitting a few shelves away was another book that would help. The Genealogy of the Blacks. He took them both.

As he walked through the library to check them out, he overheard Ernie MacMillan at a table on the other side of a bookshelf. The whisperiest whisperer of Hufflepuff, he was talking to Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott about the Heir.

"His whole family have been in Slytherin since Hogwarts was founded," Ernie said. "And you saw that snake he conjured. I heard Parvati Patil call it a Carpet Viper, and it's incredibly deadly. If it's not him, then who?"

"But how could Draco be the the Heir?" Susan asked. "Both of his parents are still alive, as is his Grandfather. Surely if anyone is Slytherin's heir, it would be Draco's grandfather, and then his father, and then Draco." Draco was impressed. It was simple logic, but at least the Bones girl had some sort of a brain in her head. MacMillan, on the other hand…

"Maybe he got it from his mother, then," Ernie said. "She was a Black before she was a Malfoy, and they've been evil since…"

"I would hope," said Draco, emerging from behind the bookshelf and interrupting Ernie, "that if I were the Heir of Slytherin, which I am not, that I wouldn't be so crass as to steal the title from my living parents." Ernie shut his mouth so fast his teeth clicked.

"However," Draco continued, "both of my parents lineages have been traced back more than a thousand years, and I am sorry to report to you that we are not related to Salazar Slytherin." He placed the books onto the table Ernie was sitting at. "If you don't believe me," Draco said, placing his hand reverently on the covers of the books. "look it up for yourself. It's all in here." He looked Ernie directly in the eyes.

"If I were the Heir of Slytherin," Draco repeated, "which I am not, you would know it. You would know it because I would be crowing that fact from the roof of this school like a rooster. Fortunately for me, I am content to be a Malfoy." He turned to Susan and Hannah and gave a short bow. "Ladies," he said in farewell as he walked away.

And that, thought Draco, was how you shut them up like a Malfoy. Unless, of course, MacMillan was dumb enough to still not get it.

"I bet his parents taught him how to open the chamber," he heard Ernie whisper to the girls before he was out of earshot.

Sigh.


	10. Chapter 10

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Headmaster Dumbledore left the Great Hall after dinner and was walking the hallways of Hogwarts, thinking. He was anxious for the children to depart for their Christmas break. He pondered for a moment how odd it was for him to feel that way. He was normally delighted for the halls and classrooms of Hogwarts to be filled with students. First year muggleborns, with their eyes wide open as they experienced the magical world for the very first time. Seventh years about to graduate as young men and women with the world ahead of them. All of these, and every manner of student in between, were gems to him. At this particular time, though, he could not wait for them to leave.

It was not because he didn't want them here, of course. He just did not want them here as he and the teachers tore the castle apart to try and find the beast of Slytherin. It had killed once, fifty years ago. It had petrified several back then as well, before disappearing back into legend. Now, it had emerged again. He was determined there would be no more victims if he could possibly help it. He truly wished he could haul Lucius Malfoy into the Wizengamot chambers and find the truth once and for all. It wasn't legal, though. Even if he hadn't stepped down as Chief Warlock last year he wouldn't have been able to get enough votes to make that happen. All he had as evidence that Lucius was involved at all was the second hand word of a house elf, and a rather unstable one at that from the description of him.

The sound of the casting of spells drifted down the hall. It was coming from the defense classroom. Knowing that there were no defense classes scheduled for this time, he decided to investigate.

" _Serpensortia_!"... " _Alarte Ascendare_!"... "Blast it!" the voice of Professor Lockhart exclaimed. " _Finite Incantatum_... _Vipera Evenesca_!"

The headmaster entered the classroom to find Professor Lockhart standing in the middle of the room with his wand in hand.

" _Serpensortia_!" Lockhart cast, and a black rat snake burst from his wand to land on the floor before him. "Ok," the defense professor said, his brow furrowing with concentration. " _Alarte Ascendare_!" A golden beam of light sped towards the snake, splitting into many beams which surrounded it to form a cage of light it could not escape from. "I don't understand!" Lockhart fumed.

"Gilderoy?" Dumbledore said, making his presence known. "Is something the matter?"

"Headmaster," Lockhart said, startled. "Oh... I'm... just trying to figure out what went wrong."

"You are referring to how your spell reacted with the snake young Mr. Malfoy conjured?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Lockhart said, frustration evident in his voice.

"Are you certain you did not simply make a mistake in the heat of the moment?" Dumbledore asked. Lockhart gave him a suspicious look.

"There is absolutely no reason that my spell failed at that moment," he insisted. "It should have contained the snake, not thrown it at the boy! I have been trying to duplicate what happened for days now, but it doesn't seem possible. I cannot make a snake fly into the air using this spell, or any variation of it. I do not understand how it happened." Dumbledore suddenly had a thought.

"There does seem to have been something very unusual going on that evening," Dumbledore said. "Young Mr. Malfoy's spell did not go as planned either. According to Draco, he attempted to conjure a grass snake no more harmful than what you just produced. He somehow ended up with an extremely dangerous viper. Then, moments later, your spell, which should have caged the snake, instead launched the reptile at Mr. Potter."

"What is it you're suggesting, Headmaster?" Lockhart asked.

"I have been studying magic for over one hundred years, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said. "It occurs to me that never, in all of that time, have I seen a conjuration gone wrong produce a better result than what was intended."

* * *

Harry was trying to sleep. He was in his bed in the Hospital Wing, and was about to go stir crazy. According to Madam Pomfrey, he would be released in the morning if all of the tests she was running came back negative for any trace of the venom or the symptoms it had caused. Finally, after tossing and turning until after midnight, he opened his eyes and sat up to get a drink of water from the glass on his nightstand, only to bump into a very long nose that had been right in front of his face.

After a short yell of surprise, he focused his eyes on Dobby the house elf.

"Dobby!" he whispered, "What are you doing here?"

"Why will Harry Potter not go home?" the little elf asked in his high pitched voice. "It is too dangerous here for Harry Potter."

"I told you before," Harry said. "I will not leave my friends in danger. It is not the Jedi way. You took me to safety before, and Master Toma was left to face that danger on his own. Now he's frozen, and it will still be many months before he can be revived. If you want to help, then tell me what we're facing!"

"Dobby thought his snake would be enough to make you see the danger, but you still stayed in Hogwarts."

"Your snake?" Harry asked. "You did that?" Dobby nodded, sadly.

"What was the point in saving me, only to try and kill me later?" Harry asked.

"Not kill you!" Dobby wailed, "never kill you, only grievously injure, to show Harry Potter the danger of staying here." Harry noticed that Dobby had emphasised the words 'show' and 'danger' prominently, then stared intently at him.

"Dobby, are you trying to tell me that the snake from the duel is somehow related to the what attacked Toma?" Harry asked. This, unfortunately, triggered Dobby to attack himself by beating himself about the head with a a handy bottle of potion. Harry yanked it out of the elf's hands with the Force. He replaced the bottle, then grabbed Dobby by the shoulders to keep him from grabbing another one.

"Dobby mustn't say!" the elf sobbed.

"I understand," Harry said, trying to comfort the elf. "I understand that you can't say." He tried to think of a way that Dobby could give him information in a way that he wouldn't have to beat himself senseless or try to injure himself. He couldn't come up with anything.

"Time is running out," insisted Dobby. "She won't sleep long, and she is angry!"

"Who is she?" asked Harry. "Why is she angry?"

Dobby just stared hard at the sound of approaching feet, snapped his fingers, and disappeared. Harry shook his head in disgust at himself. He knew Dobby couldn't outright say it, and he had just blurted the questions out without thinking.

Madam Pomfrey walked onto the ward and noticed Harry sitting up, awake.

"And just what do you think you're doing, young man?" she asked. Harry explained to her about Dobby, and how he had just disappeared right before she arrived.

"You go back to sleep," the mediwitch instructed. "I'll let the Headmaster know, don't you worry about that."

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Draco asked. He had been terrified of another visit from his father when he was told to go to the headmasters office, and was relieved to find only Dumbledore and Professor Snape waiting for him.

"Yes, indeed," answered the Headmaster. "I have a rather unusual request for you. I would like for you to attempt to conjure a snake for me. Please try to conjure the same type of snake you wished to produce the evening of your duel with Mr. Potter. I believe you said you had tried for a common grass snake?"

"Yes, Headmaster." Draco looked to Professor Snape and received a subtle nod, telling him to comply. He took out his wand and aimed for the center of the room.

" _Serpensortia_!" A two foot long snake leapt out of his wand and coiled itself up. It was dark green with a bright yellow band behind its head.

"Very good," Headmaster Dumbledore said. He vanished the snake with a wave of his wand. "Now, I would like you to try again, but this time, please conjure the snake you actually produced the evening of the dueling club."

"Are you sure, sir?" Draco asked. "After what it did to Potter…"

"I assure you," Dumbledore responded, "that between Professor Snape and myself, we will be able to contain the animal."

Draco turned back to the center of the room and took aim again. He tried to visualize the snake that had bitten Potter.

" _Serpensortia_!" Another grass snake, nearly identical to his first conjuration, landed on the carpet. After three such tries, he was only able to produce a common grass snake, though the latter two had patterns in their scales that showed his effort in trying to reproduce the viper that had bitten Harry.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, that will be enough," Dumbledore said.

"What does this mean, Headmaster?" Draco asked. "How was I able to do it in the duel, but not here?"

"I would not worry about that, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said. "It is not uncommon for stressful situations to affect our magic in unusual ways. I would prefer if you did not attempt that particular conjuration again, though, just to be on the safe side."

"Yes, Headmaster," Draco promised.

* * *

"Are you planning on telling him he was not responsible?" Professor Snape asked. Draco had been sent back to his dormitory and it was now only Dumbledore and Snape in the headmaster's office.

"Inform him that the house-elf his family owns is not only far more magically powerful than he is, but has also gone rogue and is is seemingly trying to frame young Mr. Malfoy for attempted murder?" answered Dumbledore. "No."

"Then you do not believe the elf was attempting to warn Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

"I do believe it," answered Dumbledore. "I am, however, not convinced that is how the Malfoy family would take the information."

"I was not suggesting we tell Draco about the elf," Snape protested, "but it is not fair for him to believe he was responsible for Potter's injuries. That responsibility clearly belongs to that fraud Lockhart."

"I appreciate your diligence in protecting the students of your house," Dumbledore said, "but I'm afraid we cannot risk losing the only potential source of intelligence into Lucius Malfoy's plot." He gave Severus a stern look. "As for Gilderoy, surely you are not still blaming him for his spell going wrong?"

"He is the the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and he cannot contain a single snake?" Snape retorted.

"I'm afraid you cannot have it both ways, Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "If Dobby interfered with young Mr. Malfoy's conjured snake, then he also interfered with Gilderoy's attempt to contain it."

"Since you are continuing to blame the boy for the snake, then," Snape responded, "should I not continue to blame Lockhart for the mess it caused? To continue the ruse?" Dumbledore have Snape a piercing look.

"That is far more than enough of that," Dumbledore admonished him. "Must we have another discussion of your future here?"

"No, Headmaster," Snape answered. His tone was not apologetic, though, and his lip cured into a sneer as he left the headmaster's office.

* * *

Dan and Emma Granger were setting up their Christmas tree and discussing the school they sent their daughter to. The letters they had received from Hermione this year were quite troubling to them. The idea that something could 'petrify' someone for months and was still loose in the school was did not sit well with them, and they were definitely feeling some buyer's remorse over the fees they were spending on sending Hermione to this supposedly wonderful school.

"How can we send her back there?" said Dan. "It's been one thing after another. Giant troll trying to clobber her with a club, possessed maniacs trying to kill us all, kids getting kidnapped by their own teachers, chess sets trying to kill her, and that was just last year. I think when she comes home for Christmas we just keep her here. She's not that far behind in her schooling, and she'll have little difficulty in catching up in a normal school."

"I know, dear. But you do have to admit, she's happier than she ever was before she went there," Emma said. She was troubled as well by all of the strange things her daughter reported, but also remembered how Hermione was before she went to Hogwarts. She was a painfully shy bookworm who didn't seem able to make a friend.

"She's happy because of Harry," Dan countered, "not because of Hogwarts. We might even be able to convince the boy to leave that loony bin as well."

"Yes," Emma said, "she's very happy to be friends with Harry, but I think there's more to it than just that."

"You think they're more than friends already?" Dan asked, aghast at the thought. Emma slapped his arm, lightly.

"No, I don't," she said, "but I don't think that's as far away as you're hoping." Dan rolled his eyes.

"It can take as long as it wants," he grumbled.

"I'm talking about her belonging somewhere," Emma said. "For the first time in her life, she's with at least some people who understand her besides us. And sometimes even I don't understand our daughter. Besides, you like Harry."

"I do like Harry," Dan said. "I just wish they were happily being friends somewhere other than at that school. I'm not happy that Toma is in some sort of coma. Harry says they were attacked, and the perpetrator is uncaught. I'm even less happy about our daughter being in the middle of another situation like last year."

"Perhaps it's not as bad as it sounds," Emma said, trying to find the balance between their genuine concern about the dangers of the school and their daughters insistence on staying there.

At that moment, the fire in their fireplace roared up unexpectedly. The flames turned from a warm yellowish orange to a bright emerald green. Albus Dumbledore's head appeared in the flames.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Dumbledore said, "I wonder if you can spare a moment of your time."

Dan and Emma looked at each other, worried about some new development.

"Is there something wrong, Headmaster," Dan asked.

"Not wrong, exactly," Dumbledore replied. "There is just a bit of an issue with Harry's plans to see you this Christmas holiday, as well as a question that I have. May I come through?"

"Of course," Emma said. When they purchased the new house, they made sure to buy one with an enormous fireplace for this very purpose. The flames grew higher and Albus Dumbledore walked through them. With a wave of his wand, he cleaned the ash off of both his robes and the floor. Emma had gone to the kitchen, and now returned with a cup of tea, which she served to the headmaster.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, taking the tea. "I have always disliked speaking through a fire. The taste of burnt wood stays in my mouth for hours."

"What is the problem with Harry coming here, Headmaster," Emma said, frowning. "With Toma in a... Well, with him petrified, we were really looking forward to Harry visiting."

"Not to mention the fit Hermione will have if she has to leave him there," added Dan. "Especially since this creature is apparently still on the loose."

"Yes," Albus said, "it is rather concerning. We have upped our security as much as we can, and have a good idea of what the creature is. We are planning on having an exhaustive search performed while the students are away from the castle."

"So what's the problem?" Dan asked.

"With Mr. Kendet indisposed, that leaves Harry without a guardian looking out for his interests and safety," Dumbledore said. "After the incident, the Jedi sent some... assistance in the form of a squadron of soldiers. Harry is technically in charge of these soldiers until Mr. Kendet awakes." Dumbledore looked uncomfortable with this situation.

"So why is that a problem for him coming here?" asked Dan. He knew about Green Squadron from Hermione's letters, and had no problems whatsoever with the thought of heavily armed soldiers guarding Harry. He knew that his daughters best friend would insist they guard Hermione as well.

"Even though Mr. Potter is in in command of them," Dumbledore explained, "they are understandably concerned about him going off campus without them. They are insisting on escorting him here. These are not normal soldiers, though, and I'm afraid that their appearance would be rather unusual."

"Unusual for wizards, or unusual for muggles," Emma asked. She was remembering seeing a wizard in a tuxedo top and pajama bottoms in the Leaky Cauldron once, and wanted to know if Dumbledore had simply never seen a camouflage uniform before.

"Unusual for both," the headmaster answered. "I have managed to convince them that wearing their normal armor and carrying their weapons in London would only attract unwanted attention to themselves and to Harry. They have agreed that any troopers escorting Harry to London will have to forgo them. I wonder how much of an inconvenience it would be for you to host several of them for the holidays? They are insisting on carrying smaller versions of the weapons they normally carry, but will otherwise appear to be normal."

"How many soldiers are we talking about?" asked Dan.

"Well," Dumbledore said, "there are twenty of them currently at Hogwarts, but Harry will be traveling with only two. The rest will remain at Hogwarts and help us mount a search for the basilisk."

"It won't be any trouble at all," Emma said. She and Dan had already discussed this and was looking forward to meeting someone from Green Squadron.

"What is a basilisk?" asked Dan Granger. Dumbledore looked sheepish.

"I probably should not have let that slip," he said. "Very well. We believe the creature is a basilisk. It is a serpent, hatched from a chicken egg that has been incubated underneath a toad." Emma and Dan exchanged a look.

"How does that even work?" Dan asked.

"Magic," Dumbledore answered. "At any rate, they can live for hundreds of years and can grow to quite a large size. They are one of the most dangerous creatures known to exist. Please don't be too alarmed, I have no doubt we will find it and neutralize it before the students return from their break. Now, I have a question for you. Have you had any contact with Dobby the house elf since he visited Harry here before term started?" he asked.

"No," answered Dan and Emma in unison.

"Are you expecting us to?" asked Dan.

"I really do not know," Dumbledore said. "We know he was at Hogwarts when Mr. Kendet was attacked, despite our increased security. I cannot say I am displeased that he bypassed the wards, though, as he did save Harry from that attack."

Dumbledore took a sip from his tea. "Additionally, he was confirmed to be present at an incident last week where a student was accidentally injured as a result. His presence was confirmed when he, again, bypassed the wards to visit that student in the hospital wing to apologize."

"These 'wards' of of yours," asked Dan, "are they the same sort of protection you put here?" Though Dan had tried to ask this as diplomatically as possible, it was still clear that he felt these wards were not worth much if one house-elf could constantly bypass them.

"I understand your concern," he answered, "and yes they are. The problem with trying to detect Dobby is due less to the quality of the wards, and more to due with the subtle, yet powerful nature of house-elves in general. An additional factor would be the rather fanatical determination being displayed by this particular elf. Finally, there is the fact that the house elves Hogwarts employs must be able to live and work on the premises, and we end up with no real way to prevent him from entering the school without preventing all house elves from entering the school. " Dumbledore took a sit of his tea.

"Hogwarts employs more than one hundred elves," he continued, "and one is alike to many as far as detection spells are concerned. I have asked the Hogwarts elves to report to me if they see him, but Hogwarts is a very large castle. Much of it is not in use at present due to the effects of the last war on the birthrate in our society. Hogwarts is currently at only one quarter capacity, and this results in many empty spaces for him to hide his comings and goings in. I cannot be certain he is not able to slip in and out at will without bringing attention to himself."

Dumbledore gestured at the house around them. "Here," he explained, "it is much easier. Other than your daughter, Mr. Potter, and the occasional other school friend or teacher, there should be very little magical presence in this house. It is, therefore, far easier to guard against both general and specific threats. Please don't take that to mean Hogwarts is unsafe, though. It's simply that one house-elf is not generally considered a threat. I have placed some monitoring wards around my office, and as of today have added them to the hospital wing and any classrooms Harry will be using this year, but a detection ward for one specific house elf is not feasible, and certainly not for the entire castle."

"I have a question," said Emma, abruptly changing the subject. "I understand from Hermione's letters that you know how to unpetrify Toma. Why haven't you?"

"I'm afraid we must wait for our mandrakes to mature," Dumbledore answered. "We would only poison him if we tried to make the draught before they were ready. I understand the frustration in the wait, but I'm afraid there's just no getting around it." Dan and Emma gave each other another look.

"And these Mandrakes," Dan asked, "these are the only ones that exist anywhere?"

"Not at all," answered Dumbledore. "The mandrakes at Hogwarts are the only crop in Britain, however. They are not native to British soil."

"But they are," protested Emma. "I know they are."

"Ahhh," Dumbledore acknowledged, "I believe I understand your confusion. The mundane mandrake that has existed in Britain for many hundreds of years is Mandragora autumnalis. These plants, while poisonous, are otherwise not harmful. The magical mandrake, Mandragora officinarum is related to the non-magical plant, but is much more... well, magical. It is only the magical version of this plant that is useful to us for the purposes of restoring people from a petrified state, I'm afraid. The magical version is quite rare, only growing in northern Italy. Hogwarts was incredibly fortunate to obtain a sample of them. This will allow our Herbology teacher, Professor Sprout, to attempt to cultivate them to the Isles. While we had no idea we would need them quite so soon after obtaining them, we are most grateful we will be able to restore Mister Kendet."

"But," Emma said, "if they exist in Italy, surely the mature plant exists there as well. Why not buy some and wake Toma up immediately?"

"That was certainly considered," acknowledged Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, due to the dangerous nature of the plant, it has been labelled a class 3 import hazard. In what I am sure was an honest attempt at being thorough, the Wizengamot has banned the import of not only the plant, but any of the products that contains it as well. We were able to obtain a one-time exception to obtain the ones we have now, but when I requested the purchase of the restorative drought itself, the Wizengamot decided to not bend the rules at this time. It did not help that the only person it would benefit is not a wizard, and is generally seen in the Wizengamot as an obstacle to Harry remaining in the wizarding world."

"You couldn't use your influence to change their minds," asked Dan. Dumbledore chuckled.

"My influence was never as great as it may have appeared," he said. "I strive to change our society for the better, but change is very slow in coming. Also, after resigning from my roles as head of both the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards last year, my influence has declined a bit. I am not unhappy for this, however. My passion has never been politics, but in the education of children. I've haven't been this involved in the running of the school for many years, and I daresay it's done both me and the school quite a bit of good. Recent events notwithstanding, of course."

Dumbledore finished his tea and rose. "Now," he said, "I must return to Hogwarts. I will let the Commander know that two of his Troopers may accompany Mr. Potter over the Christmas break."

He placed his hand to his forehead. "Oh, that reminds me. Madam Pomfrey, our mediwitch, has asked me to tell you that Mr. Potter must not overexert himself on this holiday. Please do not take him anywhere that he would be subjected to strenuous activity, and try to make him rest as much as possible. He's had quite the shock to his system and regardless of what he says, Madam Pomfrey would have my own hide if I failed to ask you to keep an eye on him."

"What kind of shock?" asked Emma. They had not received a letter from Hermione yet this week, and the last they had heard Harry was fine.

"Mr. Potter was the student I earlier mentioned that was injured. He was bitten by an accidentally conjured snake during a practice duel and is recovering from the effects of the venom," Dumbledore answered. Emma paled.

"Please don't be overly concerned," Dumbledore said. "It sounds much more serious than it really was. Professor Snape had him out of any danger very quickly. I thank you for taking the Troopers in with Mr. Potter. I have no doubt he will enjoy visiting with you very much. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to return to Hogwarts."

The headmaster took a pinch of floo powder from a jar on the mantle, threw it into the fire, and watched as the fire flared up and turned emerald green. "Hogwarts!" he called out. "Sherbet Lemon." With the destination and password spoken, he walked into the fire. Once the fire had turned back to orange and died down again, the two parents stared at each other.

"Is it as bad as it sounded?" Dan asked his wife.

"Maybe worse," answered Emma.


	11. Chapter 11

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Cornelius Fudge loved Christmas. It was his favorite time of year. He loved the cold weather, and bundling up in his best winter clothes. He loved the smell of a steaming cup of hot cider, and the way his breath fogged up. Most of all, though, he loved his annual tours of the Wizarding world's shops and stores.

This was the third Christmas that he had been Minister for Magic, and Cornelius decided early on in his administration to make a point of visiting every single shop in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade at Christmas time. He always purchased something in each store, too. It was usually only a trinket or a bauble to be used as Christmas gifts for his various employees and supporters, but he also purchased the monthly owl supplies and potions ingredients for his office. You needed to be seen giving back to the community, after all.

He was working on the never ending mountain of parchmentwork that was in a constant flow through the in and out boxes on his desk. He frowned as he read yet another report from one of his sources inside Hogwarts detailing the strange occurrences that seemed to be going on this year.

He had been overjoyed to have the hero of the wizarding world returned to them last year, but he also had to admit to being troubled by this whole "Jedi" business. Harry Potter was a wizard. Now that he was back, he should hang up this "Jedi" nonsense and focus on being a wizard. Dumbledore had counseled against him making any statements to that effect, though. It seemed that if he pushed too hard, the Boy Who Lived would turn into the Boy Who was Lost again.

The door to his office opened, and Amanda Grayson walked in. His secretary was a young, pretty girl, and was only out of Hogwarts for three years. He had only been in office for a little over two and a half years, but he'd been through several secretaries so far. His constant demands of their time and attention tended to wear them out quickly. Most of them only lasted for a few months before moving on to a different career.

Contrary to some rumors, he had never engaged in anything inappropriate with any of them, even though he was tempted to. The public would have a field day with that, and he knew it would get out if he did. He simply had a great deal of responsibilities as Minister for Magic, and his secretaries ended up having to field a lot of it. Miss Grayson seemed to have a bit more to her than her predecessors, however, and was still going strong after a full year with him.

"Director Bones here to see you, Minister," Amanda announced.

"Show her in, please, Miss Grayson," Cornelius answered. "I will meet with her, and then we'll take a lunch break. We'll be taking our tour of Diagon Alley this afternoon, so plan on a late night."

"Yes, Minister," Amanda said. She ushered in Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and announced her, then closed the door. Amelia approached the Ministers desk, while Amanda took her seat off to the side. The secretary had parchment and quill ready for transcribing the meeting.

"Amelia," Cornelius greeted, "How are you? Are you ready for Christmas?"

"Nearly so," Madam Bones answered with a smile. "Susan is returning from Hogwarts today. I'm looking forward to having her home for the break."

"Excellent," the Minister said. "Now, what brings you to my office today?" Amelia took a deep breath. She had been preparing for this meeting for a while now, and she honestly didn't know which way the Minister for Magic would position himself on this issue. Cornelius was a decent man, and was incredibly astute politically. He had a taste for the finer things in life, and he loved being the Minister for Magic. He tended to try to avoid conflict, though, and was usually swayed by a hefty donation.

"For the past year," she began, "I've been looking into an issue that I was informed about."

"You're referring to your inquiries into the night the Potters were killed?" asked the minister. He kept his finger on the pulse of both the community and the government, and prided himself on being well informed as to the majority of the happenings in both.

"Yes," Amelia answered. If she was surprised that the minister knew what she had been doing she didn't show it. "If the situation is the way it seems, it may cause a bit of an issue in the Wizengamot."

"What do you mean?" Cornelius asked with a frown.

"What do you know about the trial of Sirius Black?" Madam Bones asked in return.

* * *

Gornuk brushed the dirt from his dragonhide jacket as he entered the tent he shared with the five other curse breakers on his team. Three of the team were goblins, and two were wizards. Bill Weasley and Travis Parker were two of the very few human employees of Gringotts. The vast majority of the bank employees were goblins. As his black eyes adjusted to the lower light levels inside the tent, he noted that Bill was packing his things into a duffel.

"Where do you think you're going, Weasley?" he asked in as gruff a voice as he could muster. "We still have two more tombs to clear before we're finished."

"Sorry, Gornuk," Bill answered. "I'm afraid I have to go home for the next two weeks. Bit of a situation that my family needs help with."

"You know that's going to put us below safe thresholds," Gornuk protested, "don't you?"

"I'm sorry," Bill apologized. "They didn't specify, but I can't imagine they'd pull me home unless it was important."

"Weasley!" a voice called into the tent. A larger goblin with a very long nose stuck his head in the tent. "Your portkey leaves in five minutes, don't be late!"

"I won't be," Bill answered. "Well, Gornuk, good luck with the tombs, and let me know how they were situated."

* * *

Amelia Bones entered the Ministry of Magic Records Archive and rang the bell for service. Her meeting with Minister Fudge had gone far better than she had hoped for. With Cornelius having been one of the first responders on the scene, she knew he could bear some culpability if it came out that there had been a mistake in the handling of that disastrous day. She was able to frame it as a problem strictly with the previous administration, and the ploy had worked. In his haste to distance himself as far as he could from any decisions made regarding Sirius Black, the Minister had authorized her to unseal any and all records regarding Black and the events of that day, and those that led up to it.

Furthermore, he requested that a copy of any such parchmentwork be forwarded to him so he could be prepared for any actions that might arise from it. The minister, in his efforts to avoid scandal and conflict, was often underestimated due to his tendency to frequently change his positions on topics to better appeal to as wide an audience as possible. It had the effect of making him appear clueless. In this instance he seemed to have understood the seriousness of the situation.

She had timed her visit to the archives so that most of the families who would object to her current activities would likely not be in the ministry today. The students would be returning from Hogwarts for their winter holidays, and most parents took the opportunity for a day off to pick them up at King's Cross. For a full year she had been quietly gathering as much information as she could about the night of Halloween, 1981. Everything she had thought she knew about that night had turned out to be nothing more than a bunch of rumors, conjecture, and wild speculation.

She had been stonewalled at every attempt to get these records for the past year. It seemed that no one wanted to question the decisions they had made all those years ago, and resented her for wanting to dig into it. She was tenacious, however, when she was rooting out a mystery, and this one was proving quite disturbing. Her meeting with Fudge had removed the last of the roadblocks in her way. If the information she had gathered so far was accurate, magical Britain was in for a shock.

"Good afternoon, Director," the on-duty archivist greeted her. "How can I help you?"

"Good afternoon, Janet," Amelia responded. "I need any files you have on this prisoner, please. Arrest records, interrogation transcripts, court docket, transfer records, everything." She wrote down a series of numbers that indicated which inmate she was interested in and her authorization for checking them out. She handed the archivist the slip of parchment. The archivist read the numbers and went into the library of records behind her. She returned a few minutes later with a thin folder labeled with the number of the inmate she had provided.

"That's it?" asked Amelia. Even with all she had learned, she was dismayed to see how little documentation was in the file.

"Were you expecting something more?" asked Janet.

"Well, it's pretty unusual for a longtime inmate to generate this little paperwork, isn't it?" Amelia asked.

"Oh," Janet answered , "I wouldn't know, dear. We're not allowed to read them."

"Is it possible there are other records that have been filed elsewhere?" Amelia asked.

"Oh, no, Director," Janet said, shocked at the thought. "Any records being checked out are signed for. If someone came looking for this file tomorrow, there would be a notation letting me know who checked it out."

"I know how the system is supposed to work," replied Amelia, annoyed that the archivist didn't think the director of the DMLE was aware of the records keeping system at the Ministry of Magic. "There should still be more records than this!"

"I'm sorry, Director," the archivist said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "These are all of the records that exist."

Amelia signed for the folder and took it to her office. She opened the folder, and flipped through the five sheets of parchment it contained. Her eyes grew wide as she realized what this meant.

* * *

Shooter and Doc were chosen to escort Harry to the Grangers. Shooter had spent the train ride looking out the window, looking at the landscape passing by. He was pretty tired of living in the ship or patrolling the castle. He was looking forward to some fresh air. If he was lucky, someone would try to attack the commander. Some action would be welcome. He and Doc were dressed much like the non-magical locals. A fairly heavy coat hid his blaster pistol nicely, but he still felt naked without his armor and carbine. From what he had been able to determine, however, most of the non-magical side of Earth was far less action-filled than the magical side, so he would probably not need even the small pistol he was allowed.

Doc had spent the trip quietly reading some medical texts she had borrowed from Madam Pomfrey. She had been both amazed and embarrassed at how quickly the bezoar had stabilized Commander Potter, and knew that no treatment she knew of would have worked nearly as effectively. She was a proud woman, but her professionalism was far more important to her than her pride, so she was determined to learn as much of the local medical lore as she could.

Harry was looking forward to spending some time with the Grangers. He had only spent a few weeks with them in total, but he had really latched onto them as a strong pillar of support for him. Friendly adults who he knew were on his side were in short supply since Toma had been petrified. He had not bonded in that way to any of his teachers. He knew that any of the troopers would die to protect him, but he also felt like none of them knew him. Getting Commander Dameron to agree to remain at Hogwarts while he went to London was quite an energetic conversation. The troopers didn't much care if their armor looked weird on Earth. They were focused on keeping Harry safe.

It had snowed recently in London and the city looked like a picture postcard. The Hogwarts Express pulled into Kings Cross station and came to a halt. Children began exiting the train to find their parents. Harry and Hermione pulled their trunks behind them and gathered with Neville and Daphne to say goodbye. The betrothed pair were going to be spending the Christmas holiday at the Greengrass family manor. Augusta Longbottom was standing with the Greengrass family and would be joining them.

Dan and Emma Granger found them on the platform, and after pulling both of the kids into bone crushing hugs, they introduced themselves to the waiting troopers, then they all made their way to the car for the trip to the Granger home.

"So, Harry," Emma asked, "how did it come about that you were bitten by a venomous snake in Scotland of all places?" Harry was sitting in one of the middle seats of a new Dodge Caravan that Dan Granger had purchased the week before.

"Oh," Harry said. He had not been told by Dumbledore that he had informed the Granger's of the snake incident. "That was Dobby. Apparently, he's so desperate to save my life that 'grievously injuring' me is an acceptable alternative."

"That doesn't sound like a very good compromise to me," Dan said, glancing at Harry in the rear view mirror.

"Well, no," Harry agreed. "Dobby isn't entirely stable, though."

"We were so sorry to hear about Toma, Harry," Emma said. "The headmaster told us about what happened. Are you holding up ok?"

"Yes," Harry said, stoically. "It's definitely been hard, and I don't fully understand why we can't just bring some of the potion to restore him back to Hogwarts, but when I asked, I was told it was illegal."

"I don't suppose you could just zip Toma over to where the potion is?" Dan asked.

"It was discussed," Harry answered. "The council recommended that we not do that."

"Why not?" Emma asked.

"I'm not sure," Harry answered with a frown on his face. "The answer they gave was that this world hasn't made first contact yet, and they want to limit the amount of movement we make on this planet using non terran methods."

"You say that like you don't believe them," Dan observed.

"Well," Harry replied, "it just seems to me like it's awfully convenient. Toma is out of commission, and almost no one seems to want him to be restored. The wizards I can understand, but I don't understand the council's position."

"Why do you understand the wizard's position?" Dan asked.

"The longer I'm without Toma," Harry answered, "the longer I'm not under his influence. I think they feel it will make me more likely to choose to stay here when my schooling is done."

The trip to the Granger's new home took about twenty minutes, and Hermione spent it fretting about what Harry had said. She didn't want to lose her best friend.

* * *

Emma got the troopers and Harry set up in their two guest rooms. Harry and Shooter would be sharing one while Doc was alone in the other. Harry and Shooter then joined Dan in the game room while Doc, Emma and Hermione sat around the breakfast nook table and discussed the differences between Earth and Republic medical practices.

Shooter was in love. The basement had been outfitted as a game room. There was a billiards table, a dart board, and a bar. Dan Granger was teaching the trooper and Harry how to play billiards, and Shooter was loving it. It had been far too long since he had enjoyed any shore leave, and he was determined to soak up every ounce of it he could. The adults were enjoying a brandy while Harry stuck with ice water.

"You're not going to get in trouble with Doc, are you?" Harry asked Shooter, gesturing to the tumbler of amber fluid the trooper was enjoying.

"Doc knows the score," Shooter answered. "Even ignoring alcohol suppressors, it takes more than one to knock a trooper on his back."

"I must admit," Dan said, "I'm a bit surprised how… human you look." His tone indicated that he wasn't entirely comfortable with how he phrased the observation. "No offence intended, but weren't you born on another planet? Does alcohol even affect you?"

"Yes," Shooter answered. "I'm a Corellian, in fact. There's been a hundred studies or so on how species on different planets have evolved similarly. I'm not a geneticist or anything, you'd have to talk to Doc about it to get a really good answer."

"There are generally two different ways species from different planets with general human appearance can be explained," Doc said. She, Emma and Hermione had descended into the basement game room to join the men, and had overheard the question. "One is colonization. You humans might be descended from a lost colony. Over a long period of time, there might be some differences that the different ecologies would force, but the general body style and effects of substances would remain the same." 

She gave the drink in Shooter's hand a disapproving glance, but otherwise didn't mention it. She continued her explanation. "That would be parallel evolution. The other method would be convergent evolution. Similar conditions on different planets typically cause similar life to evolve in similar ways. We've seen enough systems with the same bipedal shape but with no shared ancestors appear that we know that it's true."

"Which of the two methods do you think is in play here?" Hermione asked.

"To be honest," Doc answered, "I think there are enough similarities to say it's almost certain this planet was a lost colony. There's just too many similarities to be explained any other way. How and when, I cannot answer."

"Well," Emma said, "I think we should order in for dinner. Who feels like Italian?"

* * *

Bill Weasley approached the gates to Hogwarts. He hadn't been back here since he had graduated, but he had received an urgent owl from Albus Dumbledore himself. His goblin supervisor was not impressed when Bill had asked for a two week vacation, but he had earned the leave and his contract allowed for it. For three years he had worked in Egypt for Gringotts, and he hadn't taken a single day off. He had recently been promoted from Apprentice Curse Breaker to Curse Breaker, and was quite justified in taking a vacation to celebrate.

"Well, if it isn' young Bill Weasley," said Hagrid. The nine foot tall giant opened the gate and let the young man enter.

"Hello, Hagrid," Bill said. "How have you been?"

"Oh," the giant man answered, "doin' fairly well. Bit of trouble up at the school this year, to be 'onest. Got me a bit worried. Was glad to 'ear that Dumbledore had asked you to come and 'elp."

"I'm afraid I haven't heard anything yet," Bill said. "Shall we?" The two men walked up to the castle, with Bill chatting about Egypt and Hagrid telling tales of chasing the twins out of the forest on a weekly basis.

* * *

"What do you mean there was no trial?" Cornelius spluttered, shocked at the bombshell Amelia had just dropped on him. He and Amanda had just returned from lunch and had been preparing for their visit to Diagon Alley when the Director for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rushed back far sooner than expected to demand an urgent meeting.

"Just that," Madam Bones answered. "There are no records of a trial, not even an interrogation."

"Surely this is just some mistake with the records department," the minister retorted.

"It's not," Amelia answered. "I checked. All the record ever contained was an initial report from the scene, an arrest record, a transfer order signed by Bagnold and Crouch that sent him to Azkaban, and his check in parchmentwork from the prison. That's it. No interrogation, no interview, no testimony, nothing at all."

"Oh my goodness," Cornelius moaned, realizing the political ramifications of the heir to the Black family having been sequestered away for 11 years with no trial.

"Cornelius," Amelia asked, "do you remember a trial for him? I don't, but so much was happening right about that time that it's all a bit jumbled."

"No," the minister answered, his tone miserable and filled with self pity. "No, I don't. I was an obliviator at the time, you know, and I actually was one of the first to show up that night. This report from the scene is mine," he said, picking up one of the sheets of parchment that was part of the meager stack composing the Black prisoner record. "If there had been a trial, you'd think I'd have been called for it."

"Yes," Amelia agreed.

"How did this happen?" the minister asked. "I mean, it can't have been my fault, I was just an obliviator back then, but for him to just slip through the cracks of the system like that?"

"I don't know," Amelia said, "but we're going to find out."

"What's your plan?" Cornelius asked.

"First thing is to interview Black," Amelia answered.

"Let's get it right this time," Cornelius agreed. "Make sure you use Veritaserum."

"Of course," Amelia answered. "Next step is to audit all the prisoners and make sure this is the only case of imprisonment without trial."

"Heaven forbid," Cornelius shuddered. "I hate to even think such a thing, but we'd better find out."

"Last thing, for now at least," Amelia finished, "you should start working on an exoneration speech for Black."

"That seems a bit premature, don't you think?" the minister asked. "Shouldn't you question him first?"

"Yes," Amelia said, standing up to leave. "But it really doesn't matter how it goes. No matter what he did, having been incarcerated for eleven years without a trial will give him an excellent argument for a lawsuit against the ministry. I don't think that's a lawsuit we'd win."

"I don't agree," said Cornelius, his tone darkening. "The last thing we want is to exonerate a guilty Sirius Black. If the Veritaserum proves he's innocent, he will, of course, be exonerated, treated for dementor exposure, and released with our full and sincere apology. But, that is only if he's innocent. While I admit the lack of a trial is unacceptable, that in itself does not prove he didn't do what he was incarcerated for. The last time I checked we had no statute of limitations for conspiracy to commit murder."

"No, we don't," acknowledged Amelia.

"This is a scandal that will rock our world if it gets out," Cornelius explained. "If he's innocent, that cannot be avoided. One of the jobs of government is to protect our citizens from things like this happening, and to take the lumps if it happens anyway." He stood and started putting his coat on. "If the Veritaserum proves he's guilty, I am not willing to go through the very public, very messy tribulations that would result in us freeing a confirmed murderer. Give him the Veritaserum. If he's innocent, we'll start the process of releasing him, including actually giving him a trial. If he's guilty, though, he'll have to be Kissed. Quietly."

"We can't just execute him!" protested Amelia. "Even if he did it…"

"Oh," interrupted Cornelius, "it won't be anything like a formal execution." He finished adjusting his scarf and put on his bowler hat. "I doubt very much that a killer like him wouldn't take the opportunity to escape during transport or something. I'm also sure the dementors would be more than happy to catch him in the act. Have a Happy Christmas."

Cornelius put his gloves on while Amanda showed Amelia out. They were now late to start their Diagon Alley tour, but he still intended to enjoy every minute of it. You had to be seen interacting with the electorate, after all.

* * *

"William Weasley," greeted Headmaster Dumbledore, "it's good to see you back at Hogwarts."

"Call me Bill, Headmaster," The eldest Weasley sibling said, shaking his old headmasters hand. "I was never told what this was about. The goblins just said that you had asked them to grant me a two week vacation as a favor, and that you would explain."

"Oh," answered the Headmaster, "we've been having some trouble with a creature that's on the loose. All of our attempts to locate it have failed thus far, and we were hoping that your experiences with Gringotts in Egypt might give you a perspective that we've missed."

"Gringotts has hunt teams that would be more than capable…" Bill began.

"Yes," acknowledged Dumbledore, stopping Bill from offering to contact his employer, "but there is the small problem of payment. While I am more than willing to offer you nearly anything you wish to ask for your services, I'm afraid the goblins would bankrupt the school for the job we have in mind."

"Ummm…" Bill stammered, "What kind of creature is this?"

"Please remember that you are part of a team, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore comforted, "and we would never ask you to face it alone."

"But what kind of creature is it?" insisted Bill.

"A basilisk," answered Dumbledore. He then had to stop and wait for Bill, who had stopped dead still at the mention of the beast. "Coming, Mr. Weasley?"

"A basilisk?" asked Bill, his voice sounding about half an octave higher than he hoped it would have been.

"Indeed," confirmed the headmaster, turning back to the school.


	12. Chapter 12

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that_

* * *

Sirius Black woke on another dreary day in Azkaban. One day melded very much into another in this place, and he was no longer sure even what year it was. The dementors had very nearly driven him into insanity with their constant attacks. The demons knew he was innocent, since they forced him to relive that horrific night every time they came near. He had told the human guards he was innocent often enough as well, but they never listened. They never even talked back. He'd have thought them deaf and dumb if he hadn't heard them talking amongst themselves.

He retained his sanity only through his obsessive need to find Harry. No one had ever visited him, so he had no idea where Harry was. His worry about his Godson was like a constant itch behind his eyes. His burning need to fix his mistake that night overpowered even his desire for revenge against the rat. He should have taken Harry from Hagrid. He never should have trusted anyone with Harry but himself. Forcing him to relive his guilt and shame for picking revenge over his Godson was the dementors worst weapon against him.

The prison was located on an island in the north sea. It's exact location was not publicized, but it was bloody cold. It was a poorly lit castle made of obsidian that had originally been made by a dark wizard who used it to create and breed the dementors. The ministry took it over after his death, and began to use it as a prison in an effort to keep the dementors from spreading. It was insanely successful by the measurement of containing prisoners, but the conditions were deplorable. The dementors made it so that even being assigned here as a guard was a punishment of sorts.

The ability to shift into a dog was definitely an advantage in this place. As a dog, his emotions were more simple. While he still felt them, they were less sharp, less pointed, and less able to affect him. He was more concerned with base needs as a dog. Speaking of which, his breakfast was in its usual bucket by the door. A pewter bowl of cold porridge and a tin cup of water was what passed for breakfast every morning in this place. No spoon was provided, nor a napkin. After using his fingers to scoop the porridge into his mouth, he sucked his fingers clean and wiped them on his dirty shirt.

Once a week the cells and inmates were cleaned. A warden used his wand to hose everything down with a jet of cold water through the cells bars. The cell door was only ever opened on two occasions. The first time was when an inmate first entered the prison. The second was when they died, or more rarely, finished their sentence and was released.

Having finished his breakfast, he shifted into his dog form and curled up on his thin mattress to try and sleep.

* * *

Amelia Bones arrived on Azkaban Island by means of the ferry. It was the only authorized way onto the heavily warded island. The warden came out of his office to greet her as she entered the fortress.

"Madam Bones," he greeted as he approached, "this is quite unusual. We almost never get visitors here."

"Good morning, Albert," Amelia said. "I'm afraid we have a bit of a situation." She explained to the warden about the lack of a trial for Sirius Black.

Albert Diggory was a large, muscular man who had been the warden at Azkaban for five years. One of the very few human inhabitants of the island with freedom, he still stayed mostly to his office with the junior wardens. Even with the protection of the charmed medallions they wore to keep the dementors at bay, being on this island for any length of time had a detrimental effect on the mind.

The landscape outside the ancient fortress was bare and inhospitable. The structure of the prison took up almost all of the available space, leaving only a rocky shore of a few feet before meeting the black walls of the prison. With the wind in the North Sea constantly blowing, the waves crashed over the rocks to break upon the walls, only to be beaten back time and again in an endless dance of water and stone.

Leading the way to a seldom used conference room, Warden Diggory ordered one of the his subordinates to fetch Inmate Black and bring him for questioning.

* * *

Something was different. Padfoot's ears pricked up at the sound of a door being opened down the hall. The large black dog opened his eyes and lifted his nose to scent the air. His life existed in tightly controlled time slots. He couldn't tell you what year it was, or even the month. He could, however, tell you exactly what day in his week it was, and what was going to happen next. In all the time he had been a prisoner here, never had that door opened at this time on this day.

He felt the chill of the dementors slacken off, and he realized that one of the human wardens was coming. They came in twice a day to deliver food to each prisoners bucket. The bucket was then used by the prisoner as a toilet. The waste was vanished by the guard when dinner was delivered in the evening to the same bucket. On the day he thought of as 'Sunday,' the guards came in to wash the cells and remove any prisoners who had died.

Padfoot shifted back into his human form and watched carefully as two human guards peered into the small window in the door to his cell. Sirius recognized them as Earnest Macnair and Anthony Flint. Macnair inserted a key into the heavy, metal door and it opened with a blank. Flint held him at wandpoint as the two junior wardens entered.

"All right, Black," Flint said, "come nice and quiet now."

Macnair grabbed Sirius and shoved him out of the cell.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked as they marched him down the corridor.

"Never you mind that!" Macnair snarled. "You're going to be good, or you're going to be late to your meeting."

"Meeting?" Sirius repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"With any luck," Flint sneered, "they've decided that keeping a murderer like you around is too much trouble to be worth it anymore."

"Yeah," Macnair agreed, "maybe they've arranged a little kiss for you. I can only hope."

With only that information to go on and no hope of ever being listened to, Sirius made his move. He pretended to stumble slightly, breaking out of Macnair's grasp. Flint tried to catch him, but only caught hold of the prisoners shirt, instead. The worn out cloth was so threadbare that it tore and slipped out of Flint's hands. Sirius rolled forward then over to his back. Macnair was trying to grab hold of him, and Sirius kicked out with both feet. He caught the Macnair in the chest, and pushed him back into the bars of the cell they were passing.

Macnair saw only blackness as the back of his head collided with one of the bars of the cell and he lost consciousness. Flint had recovered by this point, and was trying to reason with Sirius.

"I didn't mean it!" he yelled, as the prisoner darted away from him. Sirius ducked as a stunner flew over his head, missing him by an inch. He dove out of sight around a corner and quickly transformed back into Padfoot. The dog scampered down the dark corridor, sticking to shadows as much as possible.

Flint followed, then stopped short as he saw nothing but shadows down the dark corridor. One of the shadows seemed to be darting this way and that as it moved farther away. He sent another stunner at the shadow, but it seemed to pass right through it. Flint stood there as the reality of the situation suddenly sunk in. Sirius Black was gone.

* * *

Amelia was sitting at the conference table having tea with Albert. They had been classmates at Hogwarts, and were catching up. His nephew Cedric was in the same house as her niece Susan, and they were both proud to see their families continue in Hufflepuff. She had just put the cup of tea to her lips when a screeching wail erupted throughout the fortress. The dementors began to converge on one section of the prison. Albert jumped up and ran to his office, Amelia right behind him.

"Report!" he yelled as he entered the room.

"Sirius Black has escaped!" Anthony Flint, one of his youngest wardens, answered. He was also one of the wardens he had sent to collect Black.

"How did that happen?" Diggory asked.

"We were just bringing him to you when he ran for it," Flint responded. "Seems he really didn't want that kiss."

"What kiss?" Amelia asked, "What are you talking about?" Flint was startled to see the Director for the DMLE standing by his boss. It wasn't a standard practice to taunt the prisoners, but neither was it frowned upon. The other guard, Earnest Macnair, was sitting with an icepack on the back of his head. Between the two of them, Amelia soon had an accurate account of everything that had been said and done by all parties. A rather shaken looking young man entered and approached Warden Diggory.

"Sir," he said, his voice trembling. "The dementors have reported that they've been unable to find the prisoner."

"Oh, Merlin," Diggory groaned. "This won't end well."

"I have to report this," Amelia said, not unsympathetically. She liked Albert, but this wasn't going to look good for him at all. She was far more concerned with Sirius Black. Given what the two guards reportedly said to him, she couldn't blame him for running. This was going to be hard to manage, however. She wished she had insisted on questioning him in his cell.

* * *

"I want a full sweep of dementors to look over every inch of that castle!" Cornelius Fudge yelled. "Meanwhile, get some Aurors on brooms, start flying over the surrounding water, see if you can find him." The minister had just been informed by Amelia of Black's escape. "I want him Kissed immediately!"

"Minister," the Director of the DMLE called out to him from the fireplace. "You can't order that."

"The hell I can't!" Cornelius protested. "I know you have your pet theory that Black is innocent, Madam Bones, but without proof we must assume the worst."

"We have no prove of his guilt, either," Amelia reminded him, "and without proof of that you can't order him to be Kissed. It would be murder!" Cornelius stopped short at that.

"Murder?" he repeated. "He was found laughing in the street surrounded by dead bodies!"

"We still don't know what happened," Amelia argued.

"Then why did he run?" Cornelius countered. "If he were truly innocent, then why run?"

"According to the guards," Amelia explained, "they were taunting him about having the Kiss administered to him." Cornelius looked disgusted.

"If we had a lower position in the ministry to put them in," he growled, "I'd have them transferred there today."

"I will not allow a Kiss on sight order to be issued," Amelia said, sternly. "I'll take this to the Wizengamot if I have to."

Cornelius thought for a moment about who might win that fight. He concluded that the Wizengamot was already going to be after someone's head for allowing the heir to the Black family go to prison without trial. To add a Kiss on sight order in addition to that would cause them to target him instead of Bagnold and Crouch.

"Fine," Cornelius said. "You'd best keep the dementors at Azkaban, then. I have no idea how we'd stop them from Kissing him even if I didn't give the order."

"We need to meet and come up with a plan for capturing him alive," Amelia said, relieved that the minister had seen reason.

"Yes," Cornelius agreed. "I'll need to inform the muggle Prime Minister as well. We can present it as him being a mentally ill patient who's escaped from a hospital. That way if you're wrong, we can blame any deaths on his madness. If he comes quietly, all the better."

"Yes, Minister," Amelia said, and left the fireplace to start to organize the assets under her control.

"Amelia!" Cornelius called after her. Her head reappeared in the fire. "We need to get someone to guard Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?" Amelia asked.

"Guilty or innocent," Cornelius explained, "that Halloween night represented Sirius Black's greatest downfall. He either failed to protect Harry Potter, or failed to kill him. Now that he's out, he'll be going after the boy. Whether to protect him or to kill him I don't know, but it provides us with our greatest chance of finding him."

"Of course, Minister," Amelia acknowledged. "I'll send an Auror guard at once."

"Actually," Cornelius decided, "I'll handle that. Choose an Auror you trust, someone young and able to relate to students and send them to Hogwarts. Actually, make it two Aurors, make sure the senior one has some experience. I'll be informing Dumbledore shortly about the escape."

"Dumbledore's not Chief Warlock anymore," Amelia said.

"No," Cornelius admitted. "But if Harry Potter is in any danger, as Headmaster he needs to be told."

* * *

Cold. Bone chilling coldness seeped into his body, having already drenched his fur. Doggy paddling through the swells, he swam as fast as his dog body would allow him to. He remained in dog form, since he knew that however wet his fur got it was still his best protection against the cold water. Bare skin and the thin rags he wore for the past 11 years would provide next to none. Twice he saw wizards on brooms pass him over, but as a black dog he was just another dark patch in the water. They were looking for a human.

For hours he concentrated only on keeping his head above water, keeping moving towards shore as fast as he could manage. He had to try hard to not give in to the temptation to drink salt water, no matter how thirsty he was. It was mid-morning when he had escaped from his guards, but it wasn't until almost noon before he had navigated his way out of the fortress and plunged into the North Sea.

He kept swimming until nightfall, when he saw what was either his salvation or a hypothermia induced hallucination. A light. It was accompanied by the sound of waves crashing onto a shore. He changed his course and swam with renewed vigor towards land. It didn't even matter to him at this point if it turned out he was returning to Azkaban. He had never been so cold in his life.

His strength had just about given out when he felt rocks under his paws. Sirius scrambled onto land and crawled to a field shortly beyond the rocky shore. He collapsed, but managed to pick himself up, shake the water out of his fur, and crawl into a cluster of vegetation. This would provide him cover while he slept.

* * *

"What do you mean he had no trial?" Dumbledore asked, incredulously. "There were death eater trials, I attended several of them myself."

"But not all of them?" Cornelius asked. He had paid a visit to the school to inform the headmaster of the escape of Sirius Black.

"No," Dumbledore admitted. "I wasn't Chief Warlock at that time, so did not preside over trials."

"As I recall," Cornelius said, "Jebediah Doge was the Chief Warlock, but was killed by death eaters some time before the fall of Voldemort. Minister Bagnold held the position herself for several years after that."

"Yes," Dumbledore acknowledged. He knew that Cornelius was well aware of these facts, but stating them was his way of distancing himself from the problem. "Why didn't Black tell anyone? He's been in prison for years."

"Well," Cornelius admitted, "I'm afraid the conditions at Azkaban are a bit worse than I was led to believe. We've questioned the wardens there, and apparently he had routinely protested his innocence until he got tired of trying. They didn't pay attention to him, though, since most of the prisoners there routinely protest their innocence."

"I trust every effort will be made to capture him alive?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Cornelius replied. "I have insisted that the dementors be left behind so there are no 'accidents' when we find him. I can only hope we find him quickly, and that we can get this travesty of justice cleared up quietly."

"If Sirius Black comes to Hogwarts, you may rest assured we will do everything in our power to capture him alive, or have him turn himself in," Dumbledore said.

"Hopefully we'll have him long before Christmas break is over," Cornelius responded, "but if not then do keep a sharp eye out for him. We think that, whether he's guilty or innocent, he'll be heading for Harry Potter."

"I agree," Dumbledore said. "Harry is not currently at Hogwarts, but is spending the holiday with a friend."

"Which friend?" the minister asked.

"For security reasons," Dumbledore answered, apologetically, "I've been asked not to divulge that. I do have means of contacting him, however, and he has a guard with him."

"An Auror guard?" Cornelius asked.

"No," Dumbledore replied, "two of the troopers that came to assist him when his Jedi Master fell ill."

"I would feel better if there were Aurors staying with him as well," Cornelius said, frowning. "I've had Madam Bones pick out two for protection duty and they're on their way here. I don't need to know where he is, but I must insist that Harry Potter either accept an Auror guard where he is staying, or that he return to Hogwarts immediately. We cannot risk him."

"I will pass that along," Dumbledore said. "Please have the chosen Aurors report to Hogwarts and I will facilitate transport to Harry's location, or they can stay here if Harry returns."

"Very good," Cornelius said. "Well, I must be off. I have an appointment with the muggle Prime Minister, and I'm not looking forward to it at all."

* * *

Nymphadora Tonks was in her second year of Auror training. She was sitting in her Stealth and Concealment class when the instructor was interrupted by a Senior Auror Tonks recognized as John Dawlish. Dawlish whispered in the instructors ear, and then left.

"Tonks," the instructor called out. "You've been assigned to a special duty, you're dismissed. Meet Auror Dawlish in the hall, and good luck."

Titters and whispers followed Tonks out the door as her classmates wondered just what the special duty was their classmate was assigned to. As a metamorphmagus, she was either highly sought after for undercover work, or propositioned by people who wanted to use her ability to be with whomever they wished. Anyone but her.

"Nymphadora Tonks?" Dawlish asked as she exited her classroom.

"Just call me Tonks," the girl replied.

"Fine," Dawlish said. He had a no nonsense demeanor, and Tonks appreciated that he didn't tease her about her dreaded first name. He began to walk to the building's exit, and Tonks followed. "We've got a problem. Sirius Black has escaped."

"Escaped?" Tonks repeated. No one had ever escaped from Azkaban before. She was well aware of who Sirius Black was, since he used to be her favorite cousin. Well, first cousin, once removed. He used to babysit her before he went to prison.

"We're on protection duty," Dawlish continued. "Our orders are to capture him alive at all costs if we encounter him. Turns out he never received a trial, and there's very little actual evidence against him."

"Merlin," Tonks exclaimed. "Who are we protecting?"

"Harry Potter," Dawlish answered. "Best guess is that he'll be trying to find the boy to protect him or to kill him. We're to detain him either way."

They reached the buildings exit and went outside. Dawlish produced a credit card shaped portkey. Tonks took hold of it and felt the familiar pull as they sped off to Hogwarts.

* * *

Minister Fudge was just leaving the school when he was met by the two Aurors as they landed.

"Ahh, John," he greeted the senior Auror. "Who is your lovely partner?"

"Minister Fudge," Auror Dawlish introduced, "Auror Trainee Nymphadora Tonks."

"Nymphadora," Cornelius greeted, taking her hand in his, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

It took every bit of self control for Tonks to not scowl or correct the minister, but she somehow managed it. The minister released her hand and turned back to Dawlish.

"John, a word in private, if I may," the minister asked. The two men walked a short way until they were out of the earshot of anyone who might be listening.

"What can I do for you, Minister," Dawlish asked.

"An Auror trainee?" Cornelius inquired.

"It was the director's idea," Dawlish explained. "Get some training for her, and have someone closer to the kid's age that he can relate to."

"That was actually my idea," Cornelius responded, "but I did have in mind a fully trained Auror when I suggested it."

"She's fully qualified for protective detail, Minister," Dawlish said.

"Of course," Cornelius responded, "I didn't mean to imply otherwise." He took Dawlish's arm and moved them a few feet further away. "You've been briefed on the possibility that Sirius Black might be innocent?" he asked.

"Yes, Minister," Dawlish answered.

"I need you to remember that it's only a possibility that he's innocent," the minister said. "Our first priority is to the safety of this community, not just to one man. I want to be clear. I am not granting you a license to kill. If it is at all possible to take him in alive, you must do so. However, if it comes down to the safety of an innocent, then you take him down in any way you have to. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Minister," Dawlish answered. "You can count on me."


	13. Chapter 13

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that_

* * *

After asking Hagrid to see Minister Fudge to the gates, Dumbledore hurried back to the conference room connected to his office. He entered in the middle of another argument.

"Regardless of what you claim," Professor Snape was snarling as he glared at Lockhart, "it would still be wise to evaluate all of the possibilities!"

"Even the Headmaster has conceded the identity of the beast," retorted Professor Lockhart, "and unless you have some personal knowledge of what this creature may be, it is pointless to speculate."

"Pointless?" responded Snape. "Why? Simply because the great Lockhart has proclaimed it? Forgive me if I put my faith elsewhere."

"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to the fact that he had returned. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were sitting uncomfortably with Bill Weasley while the two opposing professors had at each other. "I think that will be more than enough of that." Dumbledore took his seat.

"Not to prolong the argument," Bill said, somewhat tentatively, "but I agree with Professor Snape." Every set of eyebrows save for Lockhart's rose in response to this statement. Lockhart merely rolled his eyes.

"My lad," the Defense professor asked condescendingly, "have you ever faced a basilisk before?"

"Yes, I have," the young cursebreaker answered. "Have you?" Lockhart's eyes widened at this revelation.

"Well, no," Lockhart uncomfortably admitted.

"I faced one just last year, in fact," Bill said. "It was a rather unexpected guardian for an Egyptian tomb, and it took six of us to finally kill it. Three goblins and one wizard died fighting it, and the two of us left standing were damn lucky. Professor Snape is correct. Petrifying is not one of the basilisk's abilities, nor is this fear weapon you've described. Everything about a basilisk is lethal. My father is obsessed with muggles, and he once told me they have a saying that I feel goes very well with a basilisk. 'The best defense is a good offense.' No, this is something else."

"But, the villagers..." Lockhart protested.

"Yes, you've mentioned the frozen village of Damangahr," Bill interrupted, "Gringotts has come to the conclusion that what happened to them was a ritual gone wrong. I studied that case in my training. I've also taken a look at Mr. Kendet. I can say for certain that whatever caused this petrification is totally different. Mr. Kendet is merely petrified, and can be revived, once the mandrakes have matured. The villagers of Damangahr were completely turned to stone. There is no cure for them."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, bringing the debate to a close. "I am afraid we are going have to table this discussion until tomorrow. Another issue has emerged that is going to require our immediate attention." Everyone turned to the Headmaster. "Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban."

"Oh my goodness," Professor McGonagall exclaimed. "How in Merlin's name did he accomplish that?" Snape's eyes were blazing with fury at the thought of his greatest living nemesis free from the tortures of the prison.

"He escaped while being transported to an interview," Dumbledore began to explain.

"What interview?" Professor Snape hissed. "He should have never been taken out of his cell!" There were several outbursts from the rest of the staff, most of them agreeing with Snape.

"Settle down, please," Dumbledore called out, quieting the distraught professors. "As it turns out," he continued, "Sirius Black never received a trial before being incarcerated. With a lack of any actual evidence, there is a very good possibility that he is innocent." This was met with another outburst, this time of disbelief. Unsurprisingly, it was Professor Snape who was the least bothered by this development.

"It makes no difference that he never received a trial," Snape said with a tone of finality. "Black is a danger to all and must be killed."

"That is enough," Dumbledore said, silencing the room. "The Minister for Magic has ordered that Sirius Black is to be captured alive at all costs. Lethal force may only be used to save innocent lives."

"Just him being free threatens everyone," Snape muttered.

"Allow me to clarify," Dumbledore added, eying Professor Snape. "Only if he is directly threatening innocent lives may lethal force be used. Now, I have some things to do in private, so let us reconvene tomorrow morning after breakfast to finalize the plans to find this creature, whatever it turns out to be."

Everyone but Snape stood up and left the conference room. Snape stared at Dumbledore with his black eyes until they were alone.

"Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder when he was sixteen years old," he breathed. "You haven't forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill me?"

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," Dumbledore replied. There was some steel in his voice as he addressed Snape. "I also remember that you had a very good idea of what you would find if you pursued the course of action Black encouraged you on. I trust you remember the innocent young man who would have been executed had you been successful in your self appointed task that night?"

Snape rose from the table to leave.

"Severus," Dumbledore stopped him, "One moment. I apologize for asking you to delve into such disturbing memories, but I must ask. Did you, in your service to Voldemort, have any knowledge of Sirius Black as being on his side, or encounter him at any meeting or gathering of Voldemort's followers?" Snape hesitated a moment before answering.

"No, Headmaster," he said, reluctantly. "That, however, proves nothing. None of us knew everyone who served the Dark Lord, and it seems that Black was a deeply held secret. He was obviously being reserved for a special occasion." Snape then turned and left the conference room without another word.

* * *

Waking with the sun, Sirius poked his nose out of the weeds he had slept in. It was a clear day, and the sun was a welcome sight. He saw a lighthouse sitting on a smaller island quite near the one he had landed on, and figured that was the source of the light he had seen the previous night. A farmhouse was near the field he had slept in, and plants were growing in lines.

Padfoot dug up some potatoes and carrots and returned to his bed of weeds holding the roots in his mouth. Once hidden again, he transformed back into his human form to eat them raw. They crunched like apples, but they would hold him over till he could find something more filling. After God only knew how many years of cold porridge and potato soup, he was craving some meat.

It was another pleasant surprise to not feel the chill of the dementors. This close to Azkaban, he figured they'd be out in force searching for him. Maybe they though he'd drowned and had given up already? He shifted back into a dog and padded his way past the farmhouse.

There was a very small village that only housed a few dozen muggles. Outside of a small post office he saw someone discard a newspaper in a trash bin. Sneaking up to it, he snatched the paper out of the bin and ran back to his weedy hideout. Transforming again, he began to read his stolen paper.

It was Christmas Eve. It was 1992. Those two facts swirled round in his head until he got dizzy. It was Christmas Eve. It was 1992. Finally, he came out of his dizzy spell and shook his head.

"Well," he said to himself. "Happy Christmas to me." Doing the math, he realized that Harry would be in his second year at Hogwarts by now. This was a welcome realization. Not only did it limit the number of places he would have to search for his Godson, but he knew several secret passages into the castle that the Marauders had not even put on the Marauder's Map. He had always kept a few secrets to himself. He knew it wouldn't be safe to contact Remus, and he had to assume that his old friend would tell Dumbledore, at least, of his animagus form once the news of his escape got out.

Reading the rest of his stolen paper, he learned he was somewhere called Out Skerries Island, and that it was part of Scotland. It was a very small paper, mostly filled with local items and classifieds. It didn't even have a crossword. He would have to reach a more populous region to get any real information, and he'd probably have to go to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley to see what had been happening in the magical world since he was imprisoned. He knew that Dumbledore would have the castle on alert for him, so he decided to take it slow. First things first. Food.

* * *

"Happy Christmas, Mother," Tonks said as she handed her mother a present.

"This is early," Andromeda Tonks commented as she gave her daughter a hug. She saw less and less of hee daughter now that Nymphadora had her own flat, but she was proud of her daughter and the career she was embarking on.

"Afraid I'm on duty first thing this morning," Nymphadora answered. "Is Dad home?"

"No," Andromeda said, "he had to go to St. Mungo's for an emergency." Ted and Andromeda Tonks were both healers at the wizarding hospital and often had to be called in on strange cases.

"Oh?" Nymphadora, asked, "what's he working on this time?"

"Some mishap involving a cat, a snargaluff, and a case of mistaken identity," Andromeda answered. Nymphadora blinked for a few seconds as she tried to process that. "At any rate, he won't be home for a while."

"I'll need some details on that one later," Nymphadora said. She handed her mother another present. "Do you mind giving Dad his present from me? I need to dash."

"Of course not, Dear," Andromeda answered. "We'll just hold onto these and do our Christmas once you're off duty. Is this to do with Sirius?"

"I can't, Mother," Nymphadora said. "You know the rules."

"Sorry, Dear," Andromeda apologized. She gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek. "You be careful, now, and we'll see you once you get some time off."

* * *

Doc was helping Dan and Emma Granger make breakfast on Christmas Eve morning. Harry and Hermione walked into the kitchen, and Harry held out a blue holocube.

"Good morning," the young Jedi said.

"Good morning, Harry," Emma said. "What's up?"

"I've just gotten a message from Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry explained. He placed the glowing cube on the table and pushed a depressed button on the holocube. A miniature image of Albus Dumbledore appeared and began to speak.

"Dear Mr. Potter," the ghostly image of his headmaster said, "I trust this finds you enjoying your holiday. I have some news which I trust you will find important enough to forgive this interruption. We have received information that one of the inmates in our prison may have had some information that might shed some light on the events surrounding the death of your parents. This information also revealed some... discrepancies in his case that needed to be handled." Emma and Dan traded worried looks.

"Very unfortunately," Dumbledore continued, "the inmate used the confusion to orchestrate an unprecedented escape from Azkaban. This prisoner was none other than Sirius Black, the former best friend of your father. We believe that he will be seeking you out, and I will be sending you two aurors. Please inform the Grangers that they will be arriving shortly. I would be most grateful if they were to extend their hospitality to these Aurors as well as your troopers. I'm afraid the only other option would be to have you return to Hogwarts. I would, however, prefer to keep all students away from Hogwarts as we attempt to locate the creature that disabled Mr. Kendet. Please return a message that indicates you have received this, and whether or not the Grangers can accommodate the Aurors or not. Trusting you are well, Albus Dumbledore."

Immediately after the message finished playing, there was a knock at the door. Shooter, who was working out in the game room, appeared as if summoned and took up a concealed position with his pistol pointed at the door. Doc also pulled a small blaster from the Force only knew where and set up a crossfire position behind a tall potted plant. Dan opened the door to find a middle aged man and a smiling young woman standing on the porch.

The girl was attractive, dressed in a short skirt with a rock and roll band t-shirt. Her hair was dyed bright pink. The man was dressed in slacks, a button down shirt with a tie, and what looked like a black trenchcoat. He reached inside the trenchcoat and brought out an identification card, and Dan saw the trenchcoat was more like a trenchrobe. It was black on the outside, but pure white on the inside, and had no buttons or belt to tie it shut.

"Mr. Granger," the man said, "I am Auror John Dawlish, and this is Auror Trainee Tonks." Dawlish gestured to the pink haired girl.

"Wotcher," Tonks greeted.

"I'm Daniel Granger," Dan responded. "We were just informed you'd be coming. Please, come in."

The two Aurors entered the house and were shown where they'd be sleeping for their stay. Dawlish would be with Harry and Shooter, while Tonks would be sharing with Hermione.

By lunchtime, it was clear that Tonks was incorrigible. She delighted in teasing Harry and Hermione about how close they were. She nearly always got the blush she was trying for from each of them. Dawlish, on the other hand, was stoic and professional. He spent the morning examining the wards Dumbledore had laid down, searching for any weak points.

* * *

Bill Weasley was trying very hard not to be distracted by the trooper going by the name of Ice. It was Christmas Eve, and he was examining the corridor on the second floor where the creature seemed to have made all of its appearances. He would be returning to his parents home for a few days for Christmas, and wanted to examine the corridor before he left. When the blond haired female trooper had invited herself along, Bill had agreed. He was curious about these troopers, and hoped to get some information from her. It wasn't going well.

"So," he asked, "what's your real name?" He hadn't gotten much out of her yet, and she seemed unnaturally emotionless.

"It doesn't matter," she answered. "I gave it up when I joined Green Squad and unless I make Commander I won't get it back anytime soon. Just call me Ice."

"Okay," Bill said, disappointed. She was devastatingly beautiful, but didn't seem to care about it one way or another. Either she'd thaw to him or not, he thought. He then chided himself for letting his mind wander and forced his attention back to what he was doing. He was sweeping his wand back and forth like a dowsing rod. The tip would glow as it passed over one section of the corridor floor by the wall.

"What exactly are you doing?" Ice asked.

"Looking for magical traces," Bill answered. "Normally there's far too much magic in the air here to detect anything. The background noise drowns everything out. There's been minimal movement through this corridor in the last few weeks, though, so it's a bit easier to get results."

"What are you finding?" she asked.

"Not much," Bill admitted. "The last sighting was almost two months ago, though, so any traces would have mostly dissipated by now."

"Then why are you trying that?" Ice asked, finally showing an emotion. Too bad it was exasperation.

"Because I wasn't here then," he answered. "I'm here now, and it won't hurt to try. Also, I'm examining the wall for any signs of hidden doors or secret passages." He continued slowly making his way down the hallway, switching his attention from his wand to the wall frequently. He spent a full five minutes examining a crack in the wall before declaring that it was just a crack.

"Tell me about Sirius Black," Ice commanded.

"I don't know that much," Bill sighed. He was beginning to understand why she went by the name 'Ice.' "He was supposed to be the best friend of James Potter, Harry Potter's father."

"The Commander," Ice clarified.

"Sure," Bill agreed. "Anyway, everyone has always said he betrayed them and gave up where they were hiding to You-Know-Who."

"No," Ice said, "I don't."

"What?" Bill asked, confused.

"You said I know who," Ice explained, "I don't know who."

"You-Know-Who, otherwise known as..." Bill hesitated here a moment before continuing, "Lord Voldemort... was the dark wizard whom Harry defeated as a baby."

"You people have some funny beliefs," Ice complained.

"Yeah," Bill said, "anyway. Black escaped from Azkaban, which has never happened before. Now, it turns out he never stood trial and may be innocent."

"Rumor in the squad has it that Black may be heading here," Ice said.

"That's the best guess," Bill confirmed. "If he does, he'll be coming for Harry. Whether to make sure he's okay, or to try to kill him, we don't yet know. All I know is that he better not get near Ginny."

"Ginny?" Ice asked.

"My sister," Bill answered. "She's in her first year here, and according to her letters, she's having a bit of a rough time making friends. The last thing I want is for her to have to deal with Black, innocent or not. Well, let's get this finished. It's Christmas Eve, and if I'm not home for dinner, my mother will have kittens."

Bill and Ice continued down the hall, examining every nook and cranny that they came to. Instead of learning more about the troopers, however, he ended up giving Ice all the information he knew about Christmas, his family, and kittens.

* * *

Sirius saw the first signs of aurors searching for him as he scouted out the ferry that serviced the island that afternoon. He had stayed in his dog form and befriended a young, nature loving couple that were finishing up their honeymoon on the isle.

After confirming that no one nearby owned the large, friendly dog, Jenny and Roger Williams decided to adopt him and take him home. He knew he was going to have to leave them, and sooner rather than later, but when Jenny gave him a bath he nearly fell in love. It was a testament to the bland diet he had lived on for a decade that the dog food they bought for him was also heavenly.

Jenny named him Boomer. He didn't ignore River, but he made sure they knew that he was going to be Jenny's dog. He spent Christmas Eve night with the couple at their bed and breakfast, alternating between curling up in front of the fire and shamelessly cuddling up to Jenny. It had been so long since he had experienced any human contact that he was craving her touch as she pet him.

They would be heading home the day after Christmas. Sirius would stay with them for a while, or at least until they got him near civilization. Depending on how the search for him was going, he might need to play the pet dog longer than he wanted, but Azkaban had taught him patience. At least he was treated well.

* * *

Christmas Day was rather quiet at the Granger's house. Their usual activities of caroling were cancelled. While the Granger's had introduced themselves around and were making friends in their new neighborhood, they had only been there less than six months. They were also trying very hard to remain inconspicuous, since their entire reason for moving was that the death eaters were aware of their previous home. Besides, with Sirius Black on the loose, Dan and Emma decided they'd just keep the kids home, a decision that met the Approval of both the aurors and the troopers.

Dan and Emma gave their daughter the usual haul of books, as well as some new clothes. This being Harry's second Christmas with the Granger's had apparently elevated his status to honorary family member, because Dan and Emma had a gift for Harry as well. Opening it, Harry found two tickets for a movie called Home Alone 2, with money for snacks for the following evening.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione exclaimed upon reading the title of the movie, "You'll love going to the movies! We'll have to watch Home Alone first, though. We have that on the VHS, don't we Dad?"

"Yes, Honey," Dan said, chuckling. He and Emma would be chaperoning the outing, (Dan refused to call it a date,) and the Aurors and troopers insisted on going as well. Tonks was looking forward to going to the movies for the first time. When Dan had asked, Tonks explained that she learned of the cinema from her father, who was a muggleborn. Her mother, Andromeda Black, was by far the more tolerant of the Black sisters, but that didn't mean her tolerance extended to going to the movies.

If Dawlish had an opinion on movies, he kept it to himself. His task was to protect Harry Potter, and he would go wherever he needed to to accomplish his goals. His main concern was keeping sight of his protectee in a darkened theater with an excessively loud sound system. He told no one, but he made sure he had several tracking charms on Potter.

After the rest of the gifts were exchanged and opened, the group spent the day watching movies on the Granger's VHS player, including Home Alone. Shooter was intrigued by the concept and greatly amused by the protagonist's antics in protecting his home.

Doc was indifferent about the movie. The film was described as a comedy, but she liked her entertainment more refined and serious. She would still be attending the trip to see the sequel. She was a trooper first, and she went where her Commander went.

* * *

Ron Weasley had a fantastic Christmas. His mother was the best cook and even put Hogwarts to shame when she really tried. She tended to go all out for holiday meals. Bill was even home since he was working up at the school for a few weeks. Charlie came home from Romania to spend Christmas with them, which meant the whole Weasley family was together for Christmas. The last time the entire Weasley family was home at the same time was shortly after Bill graduated. He left within a week to begin his training for Gringotts.

Ron was making good grades, and practiced writing every day in his journal. He had such a hard time in the first half of the year last year that he was determined that he would not fall that far behind again. He didn't think he'd ever be top of a class, but he was earning respectable grades and was proud of himself.

His only real worry at the moment was Scabbers. The entire holiday season his pet rat had been restless. He had always been a rather useless pet, but Ron was still fond of him. He was a very old rat, though, and Ron didn't like to think about how many years he might have left. He made sure to give Scabbers plenty of rest and food, and hoped he'd feel better soon.

It was weird for Ron knowing that Sirius Black was on the loose. His escape had been announced in the Daily Prophet. Everyone knew the story of how Black had betrayed Harry's Parents, and now the murderer was out and about.

Bill had sat down with him and the Twins, and asked them to keep a better eye on Ginny while at school. Apparently she was having trouble making friends. She spent nearly all her time writing in her diary, and rarely talked to anyone as far as Bill knew. The eldest Weasley brother was not happy about that, and let his younger brothers still at Hogwarts know about it.

"Look, guys," he admonished them, "you're older brothers. It's your job to look after her, and make sure she's doing well."

"But Bill," began one of the twins, "all she wants to do is write in that book of hers."

"Maybe," responded the other twin, whom Ron thought was Fred, "we could steal.. sorry, borrow the book and make a few alterations?"

"Absolutely not!" Bill retorted. "I won't hear of you pranking her. She's having a rough enough go of it to start with, she doesn't need for you to make it worse. Talk to her, make sure she's not lonely, that's all I'm asking."

"Ok, Bill," they answered.

"And if this Sirius Black comes nosing around,' Bill finished, "you keep him away from her!"


	14. Chapter 14

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that_

* * *

_Flap flap flap flap flap flap flap._

Sirius Black squinted into the wind as the scenery rushed by. The trip back from Out Skerries was underway, and the Williams family was heading home to London.

They first left Out Skerries by ferry, arriving in Shetland an hour and a half later. They then spent thirteen hours by another ferry to get to the Aberdeen coast. The further they got from Azkaban, the better Sirius felt about it.

They were now traveling to London by bus, and Sirius was rather enjoying being Boomer. He was currently entertaining everyone on the bus with a classic dog move. Hanging his head out the window.

_Flap flap flap flap flap flap flap._

The wind was flapping his ears, but he was loving it. His lips curled into a doggy grin, speaking to the pleasure he took in this pastime. Eventually, though, the humans had enough of the cold air, and Jenny pulled him in and shut the window.

Sirius had been listening in on Jenny and Rogers conversations, trying to get a feel for who they were. Roger had just been hired as a doctor at Bromley Hospital in London. It was a small facility, and Roger would be working in the mental health ward. He specialized in substance abuse cases. He was set to begin as soon as they returned from their honeymoon. Jenny had worked in a variety of jobs before marrying Roger, and was not currently working.

They were fairly close to Hogwarts, now. It wouldn't be visible from the road this bus was taking, but Sirius knew it wasn't far. The need to get there ached in him, but he knew the ministry would be expecting him to go there. They'd be watching. His best chance was to lay low for a while and slip away when the interest died down. Boomer sighed, laid down at Jenny's feet, curled up, and fell asleep.

* * *

Cornelius Fudge, wearing luxurious plum robes, stood with the assembled Wizengamot, greeting his fellow members and chatting. The chamber was full, and the first session of the new year was ready to begin. Tiberius Ogden, who had been elected Chief Warlock a year before when Albus Dumbledore had stepped down from the position, stood on the chamber floor. With him was Magnus Abbot, the Clerk of the Wizengamot.

"Seal the doors!" the Chief Warlock called out. With a thud, all of the doors to leading into the Wizengamot chamber shut and locked themselves. The witches and wizards who made up the legislative and judicial branches of the wizarding government were all dressed in matching plum robes.

"My fellow wizards and witches of the Wizengamot," Ogden addressed the members, "I hereby call this session to order. Clerk, what's first item on the docket?"

"First item," the Clerk said, "is a new bill for consideration, the Muggle Protection Act. The floor calls Arthur Weasley, the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department to introduce the bill."

Arthur Weasley, wearing his best brown mustard colored dress robes, rose from his seat in the visitors gallery and descended to the chamber floor. He carried with him a rectangular box, which he put on the floor next to him as he took his place behind a podium. The podium was charmed to amplify his voice, ensuring everyone in the chamber could hear him. Next to him, the Clerk waved his wand and copies of the proposed bill flew off a stack on the Clerk's desk to the hands of the sitting Wizengamot members.

"Honored Wizengamot," Arthur began, "I would like to introduce to you a bill that will help protect muggles against the recent upwards trend in muggle baiting that the Ministry has been observing. Each week in the past month my department has had to be dispatched no less than nine times to confiscate cursed muggle objects bound for resale in the muggle world. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has had to dispatch Obliviators numerous times to handle situations of muggles being directly attacked by wizards. These incidents are usually young men using compulsion charms on young women to spend the night with them, and then obliviating them afterwards. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, this must stop. Not only is it morally wrong, but it seriously jeopardizes the Statute of Secrecy."

"Hem, hem," a short, rotund woman with a black bow in her hair cleared her throat to claim the floor. "I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I feel I must disagree."

"You do?" Arthur asked, slightly derailed from his impassioned speech.

"Yes," the woman answered, then stared pointedly at the Clerk.

"Oh," said the Clerk, remembering his duties, "Madam Umbridge has the floor."

"That's better," Madam Umbridge said. She turned back to Arthur and spoke again in a high pitched, nearly childlike voice. "I"m afraid that I do not agree with the purpose of this proposed legislation. I feel there is already a discrepancy in our laws, one that favors the muggles." Arthur frowned, along with a majority of the Wizengamot. Madam Umbridge had a reputation of being firmly anti-muggle.

"I don't understand," Arthur admitted. "What discrepancy is that?"

"What happens, Mr. Weasley," Madam Umbridge asked, "if a wizard attacks a muggle? We throw the wizard in prison and obliviate the muggle. What happens, though, when a muggle attacks a wizard? We obliviate the muggle. No prison. No punishment. If we are to introduce legislation to make things more fair, perhaps we should start imprisoning muggles who attack witches and wizards instead of adding additional laws persecuting magicfolk, many of whom are likely only defending themselves from the very muggles you wish to shield."

"Objection!" Amelia Bones called out. She stood and was recognized by the Clerk. "We obliviate muggles in order to adhere to the Statute of Secrecy. If we throw muggles in Azkaban their absence would be noticed."

"Then, my dear Madam Bones," Madam Umbridge responded, "they should think of that before attacking a witch or wizard, shouldn't they? Besides, they can be obliviated prior to being released once their sentence is carried out."

"That still would not solve the investigations that would follow the disappearance of a significant number of muggles," Amelia protested.

"I have every confidence," Madam Umbridge retorted, "that this ministry is capable of deflecting any such investigations if we simply release our Aurors to do the job they are sworn to do. Shackling them with rules and regulations on how to protect these creatures only hinders their performance. That is what is threatening the Statute of Secrecy, Madam Bones."

"No," interjected Arthur, using the amplification of the podium to make himself heard. "What is threatening the Statute of Secrecy are cameras, Madam Umbridge."

"Cameras?" Umbridge asked, confused. "What do cameras have to do with anything?" With a wave of Arthur's wand, the box he had brought with him raised into the air.

"This," Arthur explained, "is a camera. In the past few years, muggles have been placing ones just like it all over their cities. These cameras are not like anything we have ever dealt with before. They use electricity to transmit the images they take to remote locations. This allows the pictures to be viewed from nearly anywhere in the world."

"Why would we care about that, Mr. Weasley?" asked Umbridge. "Muggle toys are easily defended against, everyone knows that."

"These are not toys, Madam Umbridge," Arthur responded, "and these are not so easily defeated as you might think. We know of several instances where attacks on muggles have been caught by these cameras, and it was only by luck that the DMLE was able to contain the knowledge. At any time we can be exposed if we do not deter these attacks!"

"I have a statement," Lucius Malfoy said, standing up.

"I am not finished!" protested Arthur. "Mr. Malfoy is not a member of the Wizengamot." He glared at the clerk, who nervously shifted his eyes between Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy.

"Neither are you, Mr. Weasley," Madam Umbridge said with a smile.

"The floor recognizes Lucius Malfoy," the clerk called out. He gave an apologetic shrug to Arthur, who rolled his eyes.

"I agree with Madam Umbridge," Lucius said, with a triumphant smile. "Regardless of these... eclecrical cameras, I do not believe that muggles deserve any further protections then they already enjoy with existing legislation. This... proposal... introduces far too many penalties on wizards, even limiting what we may do with items we have lawfully purchased for use in our own homes. If we were to ratify this, a witch or wizard could find themselves imprisoned even for the act of defending himself. This bill does nothing to separate ourselves from the muggles. Pass this, and the next thing we know we'll have muggles roaming the very halls of Hogwarts itself." He looked around at his fellow members, smiling at the mumbling his remarks had raised.

"Nothing in this legislation allows that," Arthur said, trying to raise his voice above the din.

"I move that discussion of this bill be tabled for this session," Lucius said.

"You are not a member of the Wizengamot!" Arthur shouted.

"But I am," countered Antonin Dolohov. "I move that we table this bill."

"Seconded!" Theodore Nott Sr. called out.

"We have a motion to table discussion for this session, and it's been seconded," said the Clerk. "All in favor?" A little over half of the Wizengamot raised their wands and lit them. "All opposed?" The lit wands were lowered and replaced by the wands of those who wanted to continue discussion. "The motion carries, discussion is tabled for this session."

Arthur's mouth was set in a disappointed line as he realized he was finished for this session. He packed his notes up and put them in his pocket and returned to his seat.

"Next item on the docket," the Clerk announced, "is Madam Umbridge, here to propose a Werewolf Registration and Control Act."

* * *

Red Team stood at the entrance to the second floor corridor where all the trouble seemed to originate. They were fully suited up in armor with weapons held at the ready. After being delayed for most of the break by the escape of Sirius Black, the Hogwarts staff was finally devoting their full attention to finding the creature and its lair.

The troopers were used to seeing magic by this point, so it wasn't too much of a distraction to see brick after brick float by them to stack themselves neatly in the entrance hall. The dance of stone, conducted by Professor Flitwick, was their last resort to finding the creature, or the legendary Chamber of Secrets. Bill Weasley and Headmaster Dumbledore had both gone over every inch of the corridor and classrooms and had discovered nothing.

They were now systematically dismantling the outer stone layer to find whatever was hidden beneath. So far, they had discovered two previously unknown secret passageways, but the spiderwebs that filled the passageways from start to finish showed there had been no activity in either of them for centuries.

Professor Lockhart was quick to point out that while there were large quantities of webs, not one spider had been seen. After clearing the webs and debris, Bill thoroughly explored the tunnels. He was quite pleased when Ice volunteered to join him. They found, however, that they were only shortcuts to get to the floor above and below them. Professor Flitwick stuffed both tunnels full of monitoring charms and then sealed both ends of the tunnels.

"That's it," Bill said. "That's every room on this corridor except the bathrooms."

"Well," Professor Flitwick said, "we'll tackle those next and then get to work reassembling everything."

"Do you really think the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets will be in a bathroom?" Bill asked.

"They weren't always bathrooms, Mr. Weasley," Professor Lockhart said. "Back in the founders days, there was no indoor plumbing. The rooms we use as bathrooms today were just regular rooms back then."

"What?" Bill exclaimed. "They all just used outhouses or something?"

"Or something, I'm afraid," Lockhart chuckled. "Privacy and hygiene were not concepts they were well acquainted with either. You must understand, this was a thousand years ago. The societal mores and taboos of today weren't even thought of yet. No, when a witch or wizard of that era needed to relieve themselves, they just did it wherever they happened to be."

"You mean everywhere I'm walking used to be covered with..." Bill began, his eyes wide.

"Poo," Professor Lockhart confirmed, "yes. Rivers of it. Or, at least, there would have been, but they were witches and wizards. They simply vanished the mess. It wasn't until... I believe it was in the 1750's or thereabouts that the bathrooms were finally installed."

"Let's change the subject," Bill suggested, looking uncomfortable. "What's going to happen if we don't find the creature before the students come back?"

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, joining the group, "we'll just have to maintain a constant watch. I've just spoken with the Board of Governors again about importing some Mandrake Restorative Draught to treat Mr. Kendet. The request has been denied again."

"Why won't they let you?" asked Bill.

"The cost is the excuse they are using," Dumbledore answered. "I believe that some of them are hoping that keeping young Harry away from his Jedi teacher for so long will cause him to remain on Earth permanently. Others just want to obstruct me. I told them it was essential that we speak with him, and that he may very well have information that will allow us to find the Chamber and the creature within. They denied that his testimony would be of any use. I even forwarded Harry's offer to pay for the drought himself, but they insist that the law forbids it."

"If we can't find the creature, will the school close?" Lockhart asked.

"No," Dumbledore answered. "The board, led by Lucius Malfoy, forbid the closing of the school, especially since the only victim isn't even a wizard. Lucius claimed that if Hogwarts were to close, there would be nowhere for the magical children to attend school without emigrating out of Britain. What is even more frustrating is that he is quite correct."

"Well," Lockhart said with a smile, "you know what they say. Well begun is half done. Let's get to it, shall we?"

* * *

Harry and Hermione had an extremely restful holiday. Warned by Dumbledore not to allow him to over-exert himself, the Granger family mostly stayed home. This was especially pleasing to Auror Dawlish, who knew that the more they strayed from the house, the more chances Black would have to intercept Potter.

Emma and Hermione had both noticed that Harry was somewhat moody, even though he was quite adept at hiding it. They correctly surmised that he was missing Toma. They enlisted the help of Tonks, who then spent the holiday trying to cheer Harry up by changing her form to various disguises. They all agreed that her impression of Professor McGonagall was spot on. When she did Professor Snape, though, she couldn't resist leaving her breasts in place. Even Dawlish laughed at that one.

On the evening before Harry and Hermione were set to return to Hogwarts, the family were having their last dinner together.

"So," Dan asked, "have you heard anything from Dumbledore about the search?"

"Not from the Headmaster, no," Harry answered. "We have gotten reports from the troopers still stationed in the castle, though."

"They didn't find anything," Shooter reported.

"Nothing at all?" Emma asked.

"Well, nearly nothing," Shooter amended. "A couple of secret passageways that were unused and a non-workable faucet in a girls bathroom. Might as well be nothing."

"I want you both to promise me you'll be careful," Emma said to Harry and Hermione. "Try not to go anywhere alone."

"We'll be careful," promised Hermione.

"As careful as we can be," agreed Harry. "Trouble seems to have it's way of finding me without any help from me, though."

* * *

Roger Williams was getting settled into his office at Bromley Hospital. The head doctor for his department, a heavyset man named Peter Weatherstone, knocked on the door and entered.

"Ahh, Dr. Williams," Weatherstone said, "Welcome to Bromley."

"Thank you, Dr Weatherstone," Roger responded. "It's a pleasure to finally be here."

"Need you to take a look at something," Weatherstone said, handing Roger a fax. "It's somewhat of a puzzle, but have you ever seen or treated this man? Perhaps while you were interning at St. George's?" Roger took the fax and examined it.

"Sirius Black?" he asked. He frowned at the obviously substandard clothes the man in the picture was wearing. "Odd name. I don't think so. Certainly no patient at St. George's would have been allowed to remain in such poor hygiene."

"Yes," Weatherstone agreed, "I noticed that as well. Dressed in rags, hair unkempt and obviously unwashed. Surely they have a better picture than this. No information on a diagnosis, either. No alerts on whether he's a danger to himself or others. Just a request to detain and hold him with a contact number."

"Well," Roger said, "I'm afraid I've never seen him."

"It was a long shot," Weatherstone said. "Enough about this. If they really want the man, they'd give us more information. Tell me, how was your honeymoon? Are you and your wife all settled in at home?"

"Oh, yes," Roger said, handing back the fax containing a picture of Sirius Black. "We even got ourselves a dog."


	15. Chapter 15

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that_

* * *

It was eleven o'clock in the morning on a clear day in the first week of January. The Hogwarts Express pulled out of King's Cross station exactly on time. The Weasley family, as was their habit, had rushed through the barrier with only seconds to spare. They were still finding places to sit as the train sounded its whistle and began its long journey to Hogsmeade. Percy immediately went to the front car to join his fellow prefects. The twins found their friend, Lee Jordan, and started to enthusiastically compare their Christmas gifts.

Ron and Ginny found that the only compartment to have any seats left had two occupants in it already. They entered, and saw Luna Lovegood sitting with another Ravenclaw.

"Hello, Ginny," Luna greeted as they entered the carriage, "Hello Ronald. How was your Christmas?"

"Fine," Ginny said. She sat down across from Luna. Ron sat down next to her.

"Hi Luna," he said. He turned to Lisa and introduced himself. "I'm Ron Weasley." Lisa shook his hand.

"I know," Lisa said with a giggle. "We're in Transfiguration and Charms together. I'm Lisa Turpin, Luna's friend."

"I've missed you, Luna," Ginny said, quietly.

"I've missed you, too," Luna said, smiling at Ginny. They had once been the best of friends but had begun to drift apart when Luna's mother died. Ginny's mother initially took pity on Luna and had the girl over to the Burrow as often as she could.

Luna's father, Xenophilius, was not the ideal candidate for being a single father, however. Devastated by the loss of his wife, he dove into his work as the sole creator of the newspaper _The Quibbler_. He began taking his daughter with him on long expeditions to find creatures that were not proven to actually exist, and the long absences took its toll on the Luna and Ginny's friendship. They still talked, but they weren't as close as they used to be. Being in different houses at Hogwarts had further impaired chances for the girls to socialize.

"Well," Lisa said, "there's nothing that says Gryffindors and Ravenclaw can't be friends."

Ron looked slightly confused, as if that thought hadn't occurred to him before. He was doing much better in school than he had ever expected to, but he was still not one to initiate an in-depth discussion of anything that didn't involve chess or Quidditch. Nonetheless, he found himself fascinated by the reality that once students were sorted into their houses, they tended to keep to that group even after graduating.

"I wonder why the houses never really mix," he wondered aloud.

"I don't know," Lisa said. Ron noticed that her nose scrunched up when she was thinking and was surprised to discover that he liked it. "I think," she said, "that it has a lot to do with how our classes are arranged. Ravenclaw only has Transfiguration and Charms with Gryffindor. We have Potions, History of Magic, and Astronomy with Hufflepuff, and Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology with Slytherin. It stays that way with our core classes through fifth year, though we add more classes next year as electives."

"Well," Ron said, "I can't say I want more classes with the Slytherins, but I wouldn't mind more with the Ravenclaws."

"You can't have one without the other," Lisa said, smiling.

"I suppose it might be worth it," Ron said. "Each class is taught twice for each year. All the kids in each year for two houses in a class. It wouldn't be hard to just cut each year group in half, mix and match them, and then each class would have all four houses in it."

"That's not a bad idea," Lisa said. "With each house in each class, we'd get to know the people in other houses a lot better. Also, smaller groups from each house would probably limit the chances for bullying."

"They'd never do it, though," Ron said with a sigh.

"Why not?" Lisa asked.

"We're just second years," Ron answered. "They're not just going to change how they teach the classes because some second years asked them."

"They changed some things based on what a first year said last year," Lisa countered. "Wasn't it Hermione Granger who convinced them to let us all use pens and have notes automatically taken each class?"

"That's right," Ron said, regaining his enthusiasm. "She did. I think it worked because she was super prepared and convinced McGonagall to present it to the other teachers first. Maybe we should get her to do it again."

"I think," Lisa suggested, "that we should try it on our own, first. We could make the preparations and present it to Professors Flitwick and McGonagall together."

"Ok," Ron agreed. He liked the idea of being part of something big like changing how classes were taught at Hogwarts. He liked Hermione a lot, and was incredibly grateful for how she had helped him last year. He thought that doing something just as big without her help, though, would be a good thing for him.

He and Lisa spent most of the journey planning how the classes could be mixed up and writing down the possible benefits. They talked of other things as well, and he was stunned to find that she not only played chess, but that she was a lifelong Chudley Cannons fan.

* * *

Luna and Ginny mostly stayed quiet during the trip back, listening to Ron and Lisa talking about chess, quidditch, and interhouse dynamics. Luna tried to engage Ginny in conversation several times, but Ginny would only answer questions with as few words as possible. She spent most of the journey either writing in her diary or reading from it. Luna grew concerned, thinking for a while that Ginny was arguing with the book. Ginny would write something, then read it, then shake her head as if saying no. Finally, she would scribble some more, and the cycle would repeat. Eventually, Ginny noticed that Luna was watching. She then closed the book, stuffed it in her bag, and stared out the window. She refused to talk about the diary, and stayed silent for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Boomer was not a fan of the vet. The collar with his new registration tag jingled, and that would drive him mad if he had to stay with this family for too long. It was still a better environment than Azkaban, though, so he tolerated it. The rabies shot had been painful, but Boomer couldn't think of any way out of it without blowing his cover. He had thus far been unsuccessful in getting any news of what was happening in the wizarding world. He couldn't risk looking like anything but a beloved pet until he had more information.

When the vet started talking about having him neutered, though, he very nearly bolted out the door regardless of the dangers. Fortunately, Jenny was one of those humans who absolutely refused to do that to her dogs. She and Roger had already had words on that subject, so Boomer wasn't too worried about it, but the vet talking about it still made him nervous.

The anti-flea and tick medicine wasnt enjoyable, either. It felt oily, cold, and smelled sharply medicinal, but if it kept the little pests off him, he'd tolerate it. He knew he was going to have to spend a lot more time as a dog, and it would be a much more pleasant experience without fleas.

The vet seemed concerned about his diet and said he was underweight, but that was to be expected in a stray off the street. Boomer got the impression that this vet did not approve of rescuing homeless dogs and not having them neutered, because he kept bringing it up. Jenny was adamant, however, and Boomer didn't end up having to bite the man and make a run for it. That was a win/win in his book.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was sitting at the conference table of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. It was an office that was separate from the Ministry of Magic, but usually held their meetings in one of the Ministry conference rooms.

"Headmaster," Lucius Malfoy asked Dumbledore, "dare I hope that you are here to report the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets and the creature within?" Lucius enjoyed being the head of the school governors, and delighted in taking Dumbledore to task.

"As I'm sure you are aware," Albus answered, "I am not. Our search found nothing. It appears that the creature has become dormant once again."

"Are you really sure there is a creature?" asked Aubrey Barlow. Aubrey was one of the more moderate members of the board, and usually tried to bridge the divides between the other factions.

"Yes," Albus responded. "The events that have transpired are far beyond the capabilities of any student and are no mere prank or joke."

"No," Aubrey corrected, "I was simply curious if this is some manifestation of the... alien nature of your guest." That was one of the more popular theories the board had been entertaining. Lucius Malfoy in particular was quite enthusiastic about insinuating this was some strange behavior caused by a less than human Jedi.

"No," Albus insisted. "Harry Potter would have informed us if that were the case, and he has been quite clear that they were attacked."

"Of course," Lucius said, "we must all take the word of Harry Potter."

"Is that a question?" Albus asked, turning Malfoy's words back on himself.

"What reassurances do we have that this creature is not simply waiting for the children to return?" Lucius asked. He honestly didn't know why the diary was taking so long to act. He had expected several deaths at this point in the game. So far, though, the only casualty was that meddlesome Jedi teacher, and that wasn't enough to oust Dumbledore.

"I can give you none, Mr. Malfoy," the headmaster answered. "We will, of course, be keeping the corridor in question off limits and under surveillance at all times. The guards that the Jedi have sent to assist Mr. Potter have volunteered to assist in that endeavor, and we have taken them up on their offer."

"And if this 'wait and see' plan should fail?" Malfoy asked. "If these 'Jedi' guards be insufficient to the task? If there is another attack?"

"Then we will respond to it as best as we can," Dumbledore answered.

"Allow me to be as plain and clear as possible, Dumbledore," Malfoy said, dropping the smooth, sneering delivery he usually affected. "You are incredibly fortunate that the only victim this time around is an outsider who should never had been allowed access to the school at all. I am not pleased with your investigation thus far. If an actual student is attacked, I will do all I can to have you removed."

* * *

Professor McGonagall stood in front of the enormous doors at the castle's entrance, waiting for the carriages to bring the students from Hogsmeade station. She had watched the train pull in from the windows in her quarters. As the Head of Gryffindor, she enjoyed a suite at the very top of Gryffindor tower. She descended using the private staircase that her rooms featured so she could greet the students as they returned. As she waited, she reflected on how eventful Christmas break had been for the staff of Hogwarts.

Bill Weasley had stayed as long as he could, but eventually he had to portkey back to Egypt. He was extremely upset that they hadn't found anything, and make Headmaster Dumbledore promise to keep him informed as to their progress. Minerva had been amused at the eldest Weasley's attempts to establish a rapport with the woman trooper who went by the name 'Ice." She initially thought his attempts to be foolhardy, but they did end up spending much of his time here together.

The staff had disassembled every portion of the second-floor corridor that they could, but had still not found the Chamber of Secrets, not any sign of the creature it supposedly held. She was truly hopeful that the creature, whatever it turned out to be, had gone back to sleep in its chamber, wherever it was. As the first carriages entered the courtyard with the returning students, she had a feeling that it wouldn't be over this easily.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore toyed with his pork chop. His normally healthy appetite was not feeling up to the task this evening. Glancing up from his plate, he looked out at the rows of children sitting at the long tables of the Great Hall. He had just welcomed them back to Hogwarts from their Christmas break, but he wasn't as joyful for their presence as he usually was. It disturbed him that the staff was not able to find even a clue to the location of the Chamber of Secrets.

He consoled himself with the knowledge that many of the prior headmasters of the school had attempted to find it and had no more success than he had, but he hated for his students to be in danger. His gaze came to the Gryffindor table, where Harry Potter was sitting with Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. He had reflected on the strange fact that both boys who were the possible subjects of the prophecy should grow up so far from each other but still end up as good friends.

He noted that the second youngest Weasley was not sitting where he usually was, but had moved closer to the staff table. The boy was not eating as he usually did at feasts, but was deep in conversation with young Miss Turpin, the Ravenclaw who was sitting behind him. He was surprised at the development, but pleased. He hoped what looked like a blooming friendship would take root, and even help to start bridging the divisions between the houses.

"Is everything alright, Albus?" Minerva asked him.

"Yes, my dear," Albus answered. "I'm just concerned for the students. I had hoped that we would have closed this issue of the Chamber of Secrets before they returned. Now I must worry about Sirius Black, as well."

"What do you think Black's plans are?" Minerva asked.

"I cannot guess," Albus answered. "It depends very much on whether he is truly innocent or not. Alas, we will only truly know that if he is captured unharmed."

"Do you really think he is headed here?" Minerva asked.

"I do," Albus said. "I don't think he'll be taking a direct route, though. Eleven years in Azkaban is enough to ensure that some recovery time would be required for him before he'd have the strength to enter through the wards of Hogwarts."

"Would it be possible for him make it through the wards?" Minerva asked, sounding both proud of a former student and horrified at the thought that he might have learned something from her that he'd used to kill people.

"My dear," Albus chuckled, "you remember what those four were like. I have no doubt he knows many ways in and out of this castle." His face darkened as his gaze once again fell on the children under his care. "For his sake, I truly hope his is innocent."


	16. Chapter 16

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that_

* * *

Two days after returning to Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione made their way to the Owlery. During that mornings breakfast mail delivery, Hedwig had brought him a note. It was written from the owl's perspective and asked him to visit her in the owlery after his meal. There was only one person in the school who would write a letter from an owl.

"Hello, Luna," Harry said as they entered the owl filled room. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," Luna answered, stroking Hedwig's snow-white feathers. "Thank you. I hope you don't mind that I borrowed Snowy."

"Not at all," Harry said, smiling at the white bird sitting on Luna's shoulder. "She really doesn't have enough to do. I'm sure she appreciates the chance to spread her wings."

Hermione noticed that Luna seemed apprehensive about something, and she didn't think it had to do with using Harry's owl.

"Is everything ok, Luna?" she asked.

Luna looked down at her feet for a moment, considering whether she should proceed. On the one hand, Ginny was her friend. She wouldn't appreciate Luna telling others about this, and if it turned out to be nothing, she could be jeopardizing their friendship. On the other hand, Ginny was refusing to talk to her, and she was worried.

"Luna?" Harry asked, concerned. "Are you ok?"

Luna looked up at him, having made her decision.

"I've been very uncertain whether I should say anything," Luna said, "because it might be nothing. On the other hand, it might by something. If it is something, then that's something, isn't it? I wouldn't want a something to become a big something just because I was afraid to talk about a little something, or maybe even a nothing."

Harry and Hermione took a moment to filter through all the somethings and nothings.

"I promise," Harry said, "that we'll not say a word if it's not a something at all."

"I knew you'd understand," Luna said with a smile. The smile only lasted a moment before she looked sad again. "I'm very worried about Ginny Weasley," Luna said. Her voice had lost the airy quality she usually spoke with. Feeling like she was betraying her friend, she told Harry and Hermione about Ginny's diary and how it appeared to be talking back to her.

Harry and Hermione were unsure what to do with Luna's concerns. They promised to keep an eye on her but didn't feel comfortable confronting the girl yet without any evidence other than being observed by Luna talking back to her diary.

* * *

Ron Weasley was examining all the important events in his life and measuring them against what he was about to do. He was pretty sure today he would do the bravest thing he had ever done. The time when he was nine and he had stood up to some muggle bullies who were teasing Ginny. The time Fred or George had scared him half to death by turning his teddy into a giant spider with accidental magic. Sitting on a chair in front of the entire school to be sorted, terrified he wouldn't be in the same house as all the rest of his family. Throwing shards of broken sinks at a troll. Finding out that he could learn spells and do magic and do well in school. Using that magic to summon a lightsaber and cutting the arm from a possessed Argus Filch.

 _Ok_ , he thought to himself as he and Lisa Turpin rode the staircase up to the headmaster's office, _that last one would be hard to beat. Not by much, though._ He and Lisa were going to present their idea to the Headmaster and his four Heads of House.

* * *

"So," Ron said, pointing at some graphs and charts they had pinned to a board, "if you split us all up like this, we'll be able to get to know new people from all over the school." They were just finishing up their presentation.

"With the current schedule," Lisa finished, "students will usually be matched with the same students year after year. In the interest of school unity, we feel the student body would be better served with a more dynamic class schedule."

Professor Flitwick applauded, followed by Professor sprout, then Professor McGonagall. Headmaster Dumbledore joined in. Professor Snape did not applaud but indicated his indifference by not deriding the idea.

"Very well done," Dumbledore praised. "We will certainly bring your idea to the attention of the board of governors. Take a well-earned twenty points to each of your houses for this plan to promote unity in the student body."

Ron and Lisa were then dismissed, and they rode the staircase back to the castle proper in silence. It wasn't until they were out of sight of the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office entrance that Lisa grabbed Ron's hand, pulled him to her, and kissed him as she broke into sweeps of excitement. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was Ron's first. (His Aunt Muriel didn't count.)

"I can't believe we did that!" Lisa shouted. "We just gave a presentation to the headmaster!"

"I can't, either," Ron agreed, feeling a blush turning his face red. "I was so nervous. How do you think we did? I think I stammered too much."

"We did fine, Ron," Lisa said. "They wouldn't have given us those points if we didn't. Thank you so much for doing this."

"It was your idea," Ron protested, "all I did was ask a question."

"But it was a good question," Lisa said. They had reached the point where she would go one way to the Ravenclaw tower and he another to Gryffindor. They stood together for a moment in an awkward silence. Ron wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Should he kiss her again, or would that be going too far? Finally, Lisa leaned into him, gave him another quick kiss, and ran down the hall to her dorm.

 _Girls are mental!_ Ron thought to himself as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower. _But maybe it's a good kind of mental._

* * *

The next month passed quickly for Boomer. The weather passed from the crisp coldness of January to the wet, penetrating chill of mid-February. In a small house in London, Sirius Black had grown restless. He felt he was as recovered from his stay in Azkaban as he could be without seeing a mind healer.

The ministry's search for him, while certainly ongoing, would have likely cooled off a bit with no sightings of him at all. He needed to find Harry. He had no idea if the rat survived the explosion he caused when he framed Sirius. If the Marauder had to bet on it, though, he'd put his money on Peter to find a way to wriggle his way somewhere comfy.

Harry was at Hogwarts. Sirius knew that. He didn't know if Moony would have told Dumbledore about his Animagus form or not, but he had to plan as if that secret was out. He needed information, but he had to assume all wizarding sources would be hostile to him.

Even more important than that, he needed a wand. There were family wands stashed in his parents' house at 12 Grimmauld Place, but he had no idea what the situation was there. He had to assume his mother was dead. She'd been in such poor health before he was sent to Azkaban that it would be a miracle if she were alive.

If she was alive, though, she wouldn't be of any help to him. If she were dead, he couldn't be sure if the wards would let him in. He was pretty sure his father disowned him when he ran away from home. The wards at his parents' house were both very old, and very deadly. He couldn't risk it.

There was one other possibility. It was a long shot, but it was a better plan than anything else he could think of. Now he just needed to get away. Roger worked at the hospital six days a week, so evading him was going to be easy. With Jenny staying home, though, it would be far more difficult to slip away during the day without her noticing. He knew her heart would be broken by her Boomer's disappearance, and he felt bad about that. On the other paw, he wasn't living out the rest of his life as her dog, either. It was time to go.

In the middle of the night, Boomer checked to make sure Jenny and Roger were both asleep. Being very careful not to jingle the tags on his collar, he slipped out of the bedroom and crept down the stairs. Ensuring he was alone, he transformed back to a human. He wanted to remove Boomer's collar, but Azkaban attire had no pockets. Deciding he might still need to play the runaway dog role, he left it on his neck for now. Sirius Black unlocked and opened the door, then slipped out into the dark of night.

* * *

February was a busy month for the students of Hogwarts. Classes were ramping up their workload to get the students ready for the end of year exams, and the magic was getting more complex. In Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall was starting to take points off of classwork if too many details of the source material were still present after the transfiguration.

Professor Snape was still surly in class but was still teaching to higher standards than he ever had before. His second-year class was working on Swelling Solutions. The need for safety equipment was demonstrated when someone set a firecracker off in Crabbe's cauldron. Fortunately, there was minimal swelling of the students due to them being splashed. The goggles everyone had to wear even prevented anyone's eyes from popping.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lockhart had taken them through his entire book of household pests. The students could now demonstrate how to identify and contain not only Cornish pixies, but also imps, doxies, gnomes, and other minor annoyances. Professor Lockhart was now working on introducing the children to larger animals that you would be less likely to encounter on a day to day basis.

Professor Flitwick was working them through the Shrinking Spell. After admonishing the class that using this charm on a human was dangerous and forbidden, he had them shrinking their textbooks. This gave them an extra motivation to read the counter charm before doing so. Failure to follow the directions meant that the students wouldn't have the instructions to enlarge their textbooks.

* * *

Harry Potter was having trouble trying to get a look at Ginny Weasley's diary. He wasn't normally this nosy, but Luna's concerns had him worried. the problem was that Ginny seemed extremely paranoid of anyone seeing the diary and had become quite protective of it.

Harry tried to ask her about it, bringing up that he'd noticed she wrote a lot in her diary. Ginny immediately freaked out and even went so far as to deny that she had a diary. Eventually, he managed to convince her that he wasn't trying to pry, and she'd eventually calmed down. If he tried again, it was going to be noticed.

"Maybe Ron can help?" Hermione suggested.

"He tried that last week," Harry replied. "I hadn't spoken to him about it, but he's her brother. He noticed that she's been having problems. He ended up trying to yank the book out of her hands. They had a massive row about it and they each ended up in detention."

"That's what that was about?" Hermione asked. She had not directly witnessed the confrontation the previous week, but everyone had heard about it. She continued to try to come up with ideas. "I don't suppose the twins could help?"

"After her fight with Ron," Harry said, "the twins decided to cheer Ginny up. They turned her hair green."

"So, they're out," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I suppose there's always Percy."

"Percy decided to get involved yesterday," Harry explained. "After the incident with the twins, she's pretty much been a nervous wreck. He made her go down to the hospital wing where Madame Pomphrey force fed her Pepper-Up potion. She was blowing steam out of her ears all day yesterday."

"I think we'd best leave her alone for now," Hermione suggested. "With a week like that, I can't blame her for feeling ganged up on."

"For now," Harry agreed. "There's been no activity for a while, so maybe it's over. I just wish Toma was awake. He'd know what to do."

* * *

Nearly eleven years had passed since Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of #4 Privet Drive had any contact with witches or wizards. In their opinion, it would be perfectly alright if another eleven years passed with no magic in their lives.

While one might think things would be significantly different after eleven years, it was rather remarkable how very little things had changed at all in the Dursley house. Pictures on the mantle had once shown a very large boy playing on a beach and being pushed in an oversized pram by Petunia.

Those pictures were still there, but there were more of them now. They displayed images of a very large boy of twelve riding a bike, playing a computer game with his father, and helping his mother bake in the kitchen. All in all, the pictures showed a very happy, normal, well fed life.

There were very few other signs of change on Privet Drive. Mr. Pebbles of #6 had passed on a few years back. Afterwards, Mrs. Pebbles sold the house to a nice, young couple named Jones and then left to live with her sister. The Dursleys thoroughly approved of their new neighbors.

Alexander Jones ran a construction company which frequently purchased drills from Grunnings. Vernon and Alexander had a friendly competition between themselves over who had the better family barbecue recipe. Sophia Jones was nearly as nosy as Petunia, and they spent many happy hours talking over the backyard fence gossiping about everyone else on the block.

It was a cold, February afternoon, and Petunia and Sophia were sitting in the Dursley's front room. Their husbands were at work, and their children were at school. The two housewives were planning which flowers they would be planting to best complement each other's houses. They were hoping that between the two of them they could show that harridan Mrs. Ezburn in #12 a thing or two about proper gardening.

"I think," Petunia said, "that if you plant pink roses on your side that it would complement my hydrangeas."

"Oh," Sophia agreed, "that would be lovely. Then I could also plant some blue forget-me-nots in between, and you could break up your border with some peony."

"Perfect!" Petunia said. "That Ezburn tart will be green with envy." They began gathering the gardening magazines and catalogs they had been poring through.

"Petunia," Sophia said, "I don't want to worry you, but there was a big, black dog watching your house all morning."

"What?" Petunia started. She looked at Sophia suspiciously. Her friend was often going on about some supernatural thing or other. She was young and obsessed. While the younger lady was far more superstitious than Petunia, Mrs. Dursley was incredibly attuned to anything acting in any way that it shouldn't. That's what you got from being a normal person with a… witch for a sister. She didn't even like to think such words.

"Why would a dog be watching my house?" Petunia asked.

"I'm sure I don't know," Sophia replied, "but it was scary. They say black cats are bad luck. I don't know if it's the same with black dogs, but I'd be careful. You wouldn't want to chance it, you know?"

"Well," Petunia said, trying to sound brave and hoping her voice didn't tremble, "if I see it'll just have to give it a good swat with my broom." Both women understood Petunia's more likely action would be to shriek, drop the broom, and run into the house.

"Do be careful," Sophia said as she gathered her belongings. "Alex bought me a book about supernatural creatures, and I was reading just last night about the Beast of Gévaudan, and the next day a big, black dog shows up? That's not natural."

"Goodbye, Sophie," Petunia said, helping the younger woman put on her coat.

"Remember that Alex will be cooking hamburgers tomorrow night," Sophia said. "You're all welcome to join us."

Petunia stepped out on the porch with her friend to see her off. As Sophia made her way up the walk to her house, Petunia thought she saw a pair of gleaming eyes staring at her from the bushes that bordered the sidewalk to the playground.

Suddenly, Sophia's warning didn't seem so fanciful. She was paralyzed for a long moment as she stared at the eyeshine of a large animal. The eyes blinked. A huge, black dog stepped out of the bushes. It looked both ways to make sure no one was coming, then stared back at Petunia. Slowly, it walked towards the frightened woman. Petunia's panic finally got her feet moving and she rushed into the house and closed the door. She made a point to check every lock several times. She looked out the windows bordering the door and saw nothing but an empty driveway. The dog was gone.

"It's just a dog," Petunia said to herself in a shaky voice. "It's nothing to do with me." CRACK! Petunia screamed as a loud bang sounded behind her. She twisted around and backed into the locked door behind her at the sight of a madman with long, black hair and an unkempt beard grinning at her.

"Hello, Petunia," Sirius Black said to the terrified woman. "It's been a long time."

* * *

_A/N - If you've never heard of the Beast of Gévaudan, it's worth a look up._


	17. Chapter 17

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that_

* * *

Roger woke to his alarm, sat up, stretched, and then stumbled into the bathroom to take his shower. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary. After his shower, he got dressed and woke Jenny to say goodbye. She woke up, gave him a kiss, and then looked around her.

"Where's Boomer?" she asked.

"I don't know," Roger said, looking around the room. "He must have already gone downstairs."

Jenny went down with Roger. Boomer usually snuggled up to her until she got up. Once downstairs, they looked around the house, but couldn't find him anywhere.

"Where could he be?" asked Jenny, very concerned about her dog.

"I don't know, Jen," Roger answered. He looked at his watch. "I've got to leave," he said. "If you haven't found him by the time I get home, I'll make up some flyers or something."

"But how would he have gotten out of the house?" Jenny asked

"I don't know," he repeated, reaching for the door. He tried to unlock it before realizing it was already unlocked. He knew he had been the last person to use this door. He was seriously considering pretending to unlock it and pretend that he hadn't forgotten to lock it last night. He really didn't want to open himself up for the fight he knew he'd get if she thought he'd lost her dog. He hesitated a moment too long, though, and she noticed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I must have left the door unlatched."

"We need to find him!" She said, angry at Roger for his carelessness.

"I have to get to work," he said. "I'm sorry, but I'll help you look for him when I get home."

Roger managed to escape before they could have the first big fight of their marriage. He had no illusions that the fight would be waiting for him when he got home. He prayed she found Boomer before that happened. It would at least dampen the fight a bit. As he got into his car, he cringed at the sound of his wife calling for her dog.

"Boomer!" she yelled. "Boomer, where are you?"

* * *

Petunia had never been more frightened in her life. Her pleasant afternoon of flowers and friends had now descended into a nightmare where a madman was in her house and had called her by name.

"Just take what you want and go!" she screamed at the intruder. She was backed against the front door with her hands covering her face.

"Petunia," the burglar chided her, "I'm insulted. You don't remember me? We're practically family, after all."

Petunia lowered her hands slightly and peered at the man through her fingers. He was dressed in rags. One arm sleeve was torn up to his shoulder, and his entire outfit looked filthy. He even had a dog collar on. It had the proper tags on it and everything.

"I shouldn't be surprised," the man said, "I don't exactly look my best. After all, the last time you saw me I was in a tuxedo."

"You're that boy," Petunia hissed, memories flooding into her panicked mind. "You were at Lily's wedding."

"I was the best man," he corrected. "Sirius Black, if you don't remember the name."

"What on Earth do you want with me?" Petunia asked. She was calming down slightly, no longer sure she was about to be murdered. She was still in a defensive posture, though, as she knew full well that the freak in front of her was a wizard.

"Trust me, Petunia," Sirius said, "I want to be here even less than you want me here. I need two things from you, and once I have them I will be gone. Give them to me without a fuss, and I'll never come back."

"What do you want?" Petunia asked.

"First thing I want is any information you can give me on my Godson," Sirius said.

"And how I am to know who your Godson is?" Petunia asked in a poisonous tone.

"Lily's boy!" Sirius thundered, cowing Petunia. She cringed away from his anger and slid down the door until she was sitting in a heap on the floor with her hands covering her face again. "Harry Potter," he said in a calmer tone. "I know he's in school now, but where does he live when he's not at Hogwarts? Who raised him? Is he happy?"

"I don't know!" Petunia yelled. "They tried to leave him here, but we never saw him."

"What?" Sirius exclaimed. "What do you mean?"

Petunia was sobbing now, and couldn't answer him.

"Look," Sirius said, calming down. He sank to his knees in front of her so he wasn't towering over her. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to know what you mean by that. Please tell me."

Hearing that he was not here to hurt her calmed her a little. Not that she trusted him in the slightest, but if he was going to hurt her he likely would have done it by now.

"A few days after Lily died," Petunia explained in a shaky voice, "the Headmaster of that school she went to and some older witch showed up at our door."

"Dumbledore was here?" Sirius asked.

"That's the first I'd even heard that Lily had died," she cried. "They were here looking for my nephew, as well. I've never even seen him."

"If you've never seen him, then why did they come looking here?" Sirius asked.

"The old man said he'd left him here," Petunia explained. "On the doorstep, the night Lily died."

Sirius was so shocked that he stumbled back and fell on his backside.

"On the doorstep?" he asked, weakly. "They just dumped him here?"

"I don't know what your kind thinks is the proper way to handle babies," Petunia spat at him, "but normal people don't do that."

"What happened to Harry?" Sirius insisted, getting to his feet.

"I don't know," Petunia answered, putting some strength back in her words. "As I've said, I've never even seen him. We yelled at them and they left. Besides, you said you know where he is now."

"I thought I did," Sirius said. "Now I'm not so sure. I need to get moving." He looked sternly at Petunia. "When James and Lily died, did they send anything to you? I need to see their effects."

"There's a trunk in the attic," Petunia said. "It showed up on the doorstep a week or so after Lily died. The note said it had their belongings in it."

"Was there a wand in it?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know," Petunia said. "I've never even opened it. We just put it in the attic and forgot about it."

"I'm going to need to see that trunk," Sirius said.

"You can have it," spat Petunia. "Probably full of old frog spawn, or whatever you freaks use. I don't even know why I kept it. I should have burned it."

"Peace, Petunia," Sirius said. "As long as one of their wands is in that trunk, you'll never see it or me again."

* * *

Sirius knew he had to hurry. Petunia had lowered the attic ladder and told him the trunk was up there. As soon as his feet were on the ladder she'd bolted. For a moment, he was afraid she would go to the telephone, but she ran out of the house, instead. It would delay her calling the police, but not by much.

There was a lot of things stored up here, Sirius saw, but he still saw the trunk almost immediately. It was like an island in a sea of debris. It was actually rather creepy. Dolls were piled in a corner, their heads backwards or missing. A large dollhouse that looked like someone had sat on it was next to them. Any number of muggle electronic gadgets were in boxes scattered everywhere. Intermixed with the broken toys were bags of clothes, one with a small dress hanging halfway out of it. None of the Dursley's belongings, though, were within five feet of the trunk. Sirius didn't care. It just made it easier for him to locate it.

He opened the truck just as he heard the sirens of the police approaching. He had minutes, at best. It was not a normal trunk. There was a ladder descending into a large room. Everything that had been in the house at Godric's Hollow was shoved in here. Books were still on bookcases, and there were boxes piled everywhere. Opening one of them at random, he found it full of clothes, including a trenchrobe. Opening the box under it yielded only books.

"This is going to take forever," Sirius growled to himself. He could hear the sirens even from within the trunk, now. Picking another box at random, he saw an assortment of oddments. Amidst the vials of ingredients, quills, and assorted jewelry, he found a wand. It was James's. He grabbed it and then closed his eyes as his hand felt a wand in its grip for the first time in over a decade. The sirens were getting close. It was time to leave.

Sirius threw on the trenchrobe and climbed out of the trunk. With a flick of James's wand, the trunk closed itself and then shrunk down to the size of a matchbox. He picked the miniature trunk up and pocketed it. Oh, to have pockets again!

There was a small window in the attic. It was covered with spider webs, but Sirius could still peer out of it. He could see several police cars rushing up Privet Drive. He heard the heavy thudding of feet running into the house, along with the shouts of the policemen. He smiled, backed away from the window, and turned on his heel. With a crack, Sirius Black was gone.

* * *

Amelia Bones stood in the living room of the Dursley's home. Petunia sat on the couch, crying and clutching Vernon's hand. Once the muggle police had realized that the intruder had been Sirius Black, they had called the hotline number the DMLE had set up. Amelia had been notified at once and had responded immediately. Petunia had also called her husband who rushed home from work. Amelia was just finishing taking Petunia's statement.

"And you have no idea where he was heading next?" Amelia asked.

"He was looking for my nephew," Petunia said, still crying from her fright. "He said he should be at school. I imagine he's heading there."

"Do you know what was in the trunk he took?" Amelia asked.

"Lily's things," Petunia answered. "Whatever they sent me when she died. I don't know what was in it, I never opened it."

"There should have been an inventory attached to it," Amelia said.

"The only thing in the envelope was a single piece of paper that said it was Lilly's and... her husbands belongings," Petunia insisted.

"Ok, Mrs. Dursley," Amelia said. "Is there anything you would like us to do for you? We can leave an Auror, er... policeman on protection detail if you think there's any chance he'll come back."

"No, thank you," Vernon said, gruffly. "I don't mean to offend, but we've had quite enough of your kind in our house as it is, and we would appreciate being left alone."

"As you wish," Amelia said. She handed Petunia several cards with an address and phone number on it. "If Sirius Black contacts you again, please give him this card and ask him to contact me. Let him know he's guaranteed a fair trial if he turns himself in. Whether he takes the card or not, if you see him again I'd like you to please call me. We'll stay out of your lives as much as we can, I promise."

Amelia left the house and walked up to a man wearing a fedora that was pulled down low enough you couldn't see his eyes. He was examining the bushes across the street from #4.

"Was it Black?" the man asked in a gravelly voice.

"Yes, Alastor," Amelia answered. "He didn't hurt her, and even promised that he wouldn't."

"What was he after?" Moody asked.

"Information on Harry Potter," Amelia answered, "and what the ministry sent her family after Lilly Potter died."

"He's looking for a wand," Moody realized.

"He may have got one," Amelia answered. "If what Mrs. Dursley said is true, they never even opened the trunk."

"Fantastic," Moody groaned. "Sirius Black now has everything that was in James and Lily Potter's house when they died. He'll have at least two wands, then."

"I'll have to check the inventory," Amelia said. "They should have received one with the trunk, but she said they didn't. The ministry should have a copy." She paused for a moment. "The Dursley's refused protection," Amelia said.

"Naturally you'll be leaving someone here anyway," Moody said.

"Of course," Amelia confirmed. "Did you learn anything from the neighbors?"

"Something interesting," Moody answered. "Is there any information on Black being an animagus?"

"Not that I know of," Amelia answered. "Why? Do you think he might be one?"

"The neighbor," Moody reported, "a Mrs. Sophia Jones, saw a large, black dog watching the Dursley house all day today. She'd never seen it before. She said it wasn't acting like a normal dog."

"Mrs. Dursley reported seeing it right before Black apparated into the house," Amelia added. "If he is, it would explain a number of things."

"Black's resistance to the dementors, for one," Moody agreed.

"And how he escaped," Amelia said. "I've looked over his hitwizard records, there's no mention of it. That doesn't necessarily rule it out, though."

"Black wasn't just a hitwizard, though," Moody said. "He had applied to be an auror."

"I didn't know that," Amelia said, frowning. "His application should have been in his file."

"I know he applied," Moody said, "though I never got to read it. I'd worked with him before and thought I knew him. I had already approved his transfer. He was going to be accepted before that night scuppered everything." He scowled at the bush some more. "You know this means the search for him will be that much harder," he growled. "While a big, black dog may stand out in certain places, They're still not that uncommon."

"I'll have to add the possibility to the search information," Amelia said. "I wonder why his application wasn't in his paperwork. I'll need to go back to the archives and have them search some more."

"You might also ask someone who knew him better than anyone else," Moody suggested.

"Who?" Amelia asked.

"Remus Lupin," Moody answered.

* * *

Ginny, as it turned out, did not appreciate her siblings attempt to cheer her up or make her feel better. She became more withdrawn than she was before. Valentines Day was on a Saturday this year. The third years and above had all gone to the village for the day. Ginny's roommates, now used Ginny spending as much time alone as she could, were all down in the common room.

Ginny, alone in her room, sat on her bed. She was rocking back and forth, crying. Her diary was on her bed, open before her. She stared at the words as they wrote themselves on the blank paper.

" _Come to me, Ginny_ ," the diary wrote.

"No," she murmured, "I won't."

" _You WILL come to me!_ " The diary commanded.

"Ginny clamped her hands over her ears and rocked back and forth even harder.

"Leave me alone," she sobbed. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

" _Because you're mine, Ginny,_ " the diary wrote. " _The second you wrote your name in me you became mine._ "

"I'll tell," Ginny moaned. "I'll tell and they'll take you away."

Splotches of ink made crazy pattern on the page. This always happened when the diary grew angry.

" _If you tell, they'll take you away,_ " the diary wrote. " _You brought a dark artifact into a school, Ginny. It's because of you that interloping outsider was attacked. They'll blame you. Harry will blame you!_ "

"Then I'll throw you away," Ginny cried. "I'll throw you away and never look back."

" _You've already tried that,_ " the diary taunted. " _I always come back. And if someone else finds me first, I'll own them. And then I'll send **her** after you._"

Ginny cried even harder.

" _This is your last chance, Ginny,_ " the diary wrote. " _Come to me or I send her to bring you to me!_ "

"No no no no no no…" Ginny cried, repeating the word over and over.

" _So be it,_ "the diary wrote. The words turned red, then vanished.

Ginny curled up in the fetal position on her bed and sobbed.

* * *

Amelia was back in the records archive. She was having a lively argument with the very stubborn archivist Janet. First, the record containing the inventory of the Potter belongings was just a record that it was delivered. No inventory was actually included. It appeared that low level ministry employee named James Shore just packed everything with a swish of his wand, stuffed it in a trunk, and mailed it. Janet was not appreciative of Amelia being upset at this. Their argument then went into Sirius Black's Auror application.

"As I told you before, Director," Janet said haughtily, "when you asked for everything, I gave you everything."

"Fine," Amelia snapped. "Give me every Auror application that was filed between January 1980 and December 1981."

"As you wish," Janet snipped back. She made Amelia wait a half hour, even though with magic the records could have been retrieved in a moment. "Will that be all?" she asked as she handed over a folder containing about 60 pieces of parchment. Amelia didn't bother to answer, just started flipping through the sheets right there at the counter.

"Here!" she yelled out, slamming one piece of parchment on the counter. Janet's eyes went wide as she saw the name Sirius Black in block letters on the top of the form.

"That should not be possible," she said in a high pitched voice.

"Everything is possible," Amelia answered back. She left the other papers on the counter for Janet to clear up and walked out of the archives while skimming the paper. She came to a sudden halt as she saw the section titled _Special Abilities._ Printed in handwritten quill was _Animagus - Black dog._

"Bugger me," Amelia said softly to herself.

* * *

Colin Creevey was having a fantastic first year at Hogwarts. When he had received his acceptance letter, his brother Dennis had been so jealous. Even though Professor McGonagall had confirmed his younger brother would definitely be receiving his own letter in a few years, Dennis still wanted to go right then.

Colin could hardly believe that the weird things that kept happening around them was magic, and he dove into it with all the enthusiasm he had. He had always been an excitable boy, so he had a lot of enthusiasm to throw at this new adventure. Dennis was so disappointed that he wasn't going to get to go that Colin promised to send him lots of pictures. His parents had found a camera in Diagon Alley that would work in Hogwarts, and Colin had begged so hard for it that they bought it for him as a birthday present.

One of the most exciting things he read about was the story of the Boy Who Lived and Disappeared. None of the books mentioned it, but apparently Harry Potter turned up at Hogwarts last year despite having disappeared. He wrote Dennis that night to tell him. During his sorting, the Hat had warned him that being Harry's friend could expose him to a lot of danger. Colin hadn't balked at that in the slightest, and the Hat confirmed that such bravery could only land him in Gryffindor.

He had to learn not to annoy people with his constant picture taking, but he thought he was getting better at getting really good photographs of the castle. He thought that today would be a fantastic day to get a bunch of pictures, since all the upper years had left to go to Hogsmeade. Most of the people who tended to get the most annoyed at him were in the upper years, so a Hogsmeade weekend was as enjoyable for him as for them.

He had just finished taking some great shots of the castle as seen from Hagrid's Hut. He was on his way back to the dorm to develop them. _Dennis will really like these_ , he thought to himself.

Just as he was passing the second floor, he suddenly felt apprehensive. He stopped and looked around, but he couldn't see anything wrong. He knew no one was allowed to go down that corridor, but nothing had happened in months. _Wouldn't it be great_ , he thought, _if I could get a picture of whatever this creature was?_ He was sure to get a detention if he went down there, but what was the worst that could happen?

No one was in sight. The sense of fear was getting stronger now. He vowed to continue on. _After all, I'm a Gryffindor, aren't I? Bravery is going on even if you're afraid._ He walked as slowly as he could off of the staircase, looked both ways to be sure no one could see him, and stepped into the second floor corridor.

Nothing happened. He took another step. Nothing happened. Gaining confidence, he walked about halfway down the corridor as quietly as he could. Just as he was passing an unused classroom, he was nearly frightened out of his skin when a man wearing white armor had reached through the doorway and grabbed him by the shoulder! Colin gasped and nearly dropped his camera.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked. His voice was filtered by the helmet he wore, but Colin thought he sounded both frightened and angry.

"I wanted to get a picture of it," Colin said, his voice as high as it had ever been.

"You need to leave, now!" the trooper ordered. "Something is coming."

The sense of terror was almost overpowering. Colin saw another trooper pointing a rifle down the corridor.

"Go on!" the trooper who had surprised Colin yelled, giving him a shove in the direction of the staircase. "Contact in the monitored area," the other trooper said. Colin could hear voices over a radio. Help was on the way. He pointed his camera down the corridor and peered through the viewfinder. He saw something dark dart across the hallway. He clicked the trigger on his camera just as he heard one of the troopers shout.

"Movement! We've got move..." the voice cut off and everything went dark.


	18. Chapter 18

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that_

* * *

Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione and Neville. He was working on a potions essay while Hermione and Neville worked on an Herbology project. Ron was playing chess with Dean Thomas, who was being coached by Seamus Finnigan. Neither Dean nor Seamus had ever managed to beat Ron at chess before, and Seamus was giving Dean tips he hoped would turn the tide. It wasn't going very well.

Auror John Dawlish was sitting at a table near the fire with Tonks. They had both been assigned to stay on protective duty at Hogwarts. Sirius Black was still on the loose, and no one wanted to take any chances. Dawlish was drafting a report to detail to Director Bones their activities for the week while Tonks was mostly trying to distract Ron by turning her nose into different animal noses.

Everything halted when a warbling alarm came from Harry's communicator. Picking it up, he activated it.

"Contact in the monitored area," said a muffled voice from the tiny box that Harry held. A symbol was displayed to indicate that it was Blue 5. Harry, who kept track of who on Green Squad was assigned to the watch the corridor, knew that the duty was currently being held by Blue 1 and Blue 5. Blue 1 was a weapons specialist nicknamed Tank. Blue 5 was a small arms trooper nicknamed Beast. Harry clicked the transmit button on his communicator.

"Blue 1, Blue 5, engage," he ordered, "All troopers move to assist." Blaze and Shooter, who were assigned protection detail to Harry, had already activated their weapons and were ready to mobilize. Harry gave Hermione a tight smile, took out his lightsaber, and jogged to the portrait entrance.

Without warning, he stopped abruptly and nearly fell backwards. He had run into what felt like a solid, invisible wall. He put his hand out and reached forward until he could feel the barrier he had collided with. He couldn't budge forward an inch against it.

"We can't get through," Harry growled in frustration. Blaze tried to push his way through the barrier, with no better results.

"Movement! We've got move…" Blue 1's voice said, then came to a stop. His communicator kept transmitting, but something had stopped his words in an instant.

Harry hit the barrier with his fist, only succeeding in hurting his hand.

"No!" he yelled. He activated his communicator again. "This is Commander Potter. I'm trapped in the dormitories. All troopers that can respond, converge on the second floor corridor now!" He turned to Blaze. "Get through whatever this is, now!"

A soft pop next to him had Harry spinning to face Dobby, who had just popped beside him.

"Dobby!" Harry yelled. "You did this!"

"Harry Potter must stay safe," Dobby whimpered. "Harry Potter must not go!"

Dobby suddenly flew through the air, stopping only when Harry wrapped his hand around the house elf's throat.

"Drop that barrier now, Dobby!" Harry yelled. "I have to get down there."

"Dobby cannot," the sobbing elf said. "Dobby must keep Harry Potter safe!" He was stroking Harry's hand that the boy was nearly strangling him with.

"Harry, stop!" Hermione yelled. "You're going to hurt him!"

"Who's next, Dobby?" Harry snarled. "First it was Toma, who's next?" His hand tightened around Dobby's throat, causing the house elf to wheeze.

"Dobby, just go!" Hermione called to the elf. "Go to Dumbledore, tell him to help."

Dobby snapped his fingers and vanished from Harry's grasp. Harry growled in frustration and slammed his fist into the barrier again, which did not budge at all with Dobby's departure.

"Harry," Hermione cried, "he can't help it."

"He won't be able to tell Dumbledore anything anyway," Harry snapped. "He can't betray his masters."

"Watch out," Tonks called out. She concentrated for a moment, then flicked her wand. A large drop of white magic flew out of her wand. It turned into a white, glowing jack rabbit that hopped through the barrier and then through the Fat Lady's portrait.

"What was that?" Hermione asked.

"Messenger Patronus," Tonks answered. "It's on its way to Dumbledore." Tonks turned to Harry. "You need to calm down, Harry. Getting yourself hurt won't help anyone."

Harry didn't answer. He was staring at his communicator, looking at the readouts displaying the status of each trooper in Green Squad.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, working on the never-ending stacks of parchment that kept a school running. Without warning, a scared and misused looking house-elf popped in front of his desk. The moment the elf apparated in, an alarm sounded throughout Dumbledore's office.

"Dobby, I presume?" the headmaster inquired. The alarms turned off with a twitch of Dumbledore's head. "Why are you here?"

"Bad Dobby!" the elf yelled at himself. He grabbed a hand-held telescope off of Dumbledore's desk and started beating himself in the head with it. "Bad Dobby!"

At that moment, a Patronus rabbit entered the office.

"Headmaster," the rabbit said in Tonk's voice. "The second-floor corridor is under attack and we're all stuck in the dormitory by some sort of shield."

"Fawkes!" Dumbledore yelled. The phoenix disappeared, then reappeared with his tail feathers in Dumbledore's outstretched hand. He and Fawkes then disappeared in a flash of fire.

* * *

Fawkes transported Dumbledore to the second-floor corridor, near the classroom where the troopers had positioned themselves. He immediately saw young Colin Creevey with his camera held up to his face. Next to him was one of the Troopers, who was positioned as if to shield the young man. Albus knew their unnaturally stiff postures meant they had already been petrified. The other trooper was crouched in the doorframe, firing red bolts of energy down the corridor. A thick, grey smoke hung in the air near the end of the hallway, obscuring everything. It was billowing and swirling. Albus could see a dark shape moving and dodging the blaster fire, but could not make out what it was. Drawing his wand, he sent an enormous fireball hurtling down the corridor. He heard a loud screech, and there was no further movement.

Dumbledore approached the unharmed trooper, who had stopped firing. He kept his weapon trained down the hallway, though, ready to resume combat once a target presented itself. A number of other troopers ran into the hallway, each of them pointing their weapons at the lingering smoke.

"Blue 5, report," Commander Dameron ordered.

"I saw it," the trooper answered, "but I couldn't see it clearly enough to identify it. It moves fast, and whatever that paralyzing weapon is, I think it has to be able to see you to use it. Once it took out Blue 1 and the kid, I threw a smoke grenade down there. It dodged everything I threw at it, but I did keep it pinned down there. The headmaster showed up and flash fried it, I hope."

Rev was examining Blue 1 and Colin, and noted that both of them were frozen in the same manner as Toma Kendet.

"Red Team," Commander Dameron ordered. "Advance down the corridor. Kill anything that moves."

"Yes sir," Red Sarge confirmed. Red team assembled in a wedge formation and rapidly moved down the hallway. Their white armor blended with the smoke from Blue 5's grenade that was still hanging in the air, and they effectively disappeared. It wasn't long before they had turned back.

"There's nothing here," Red Sarge reported. "Whatever it is, it's gone."

"I'm going to clear this smoke away," Dumbledore warned the troopers. They all aimed their weapons back down the corridor. Dumbledore waved his wand and the smoke instantly cleared. They could see blackened scorch marks on the far wall from Beast's covering fire, but no other evidence of the fight was to be seen at all.

* * *

Harry sat on the edge of Colin's bed in the hospital wing. His camera had been removed, but Colin's hands were still in position as if he were still holding it. Professor Flitwick had taken the camera to the school's dark room to develop the film. With any luck, he got a shot of his attacker.

"What was he doing there?" Harry asked.

"I do not know," answered Dumbledore, who was standing beside them. "He certainly shouldn't have been."

"If Dobby hadn't stopped me…" Harry began before he was interrupted by Dumbledore.

"Then Mr. Creevey would have still been petrified," the headmaster said. Harry stared at Dumbledore in disbelief.

"You are talented, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, "in both magic and the Force. But you are not omnipotent. None of us are."

"I could have stopped this," Harry protested.

"Could you have?" Dumbledore asked. "As I said, you are talented, but I do not believe you are yet at the level of Master Kendet." Harry looked over to the closed curtains which concealed his Master, still laying petrified.

"I have interviewed your Commander Dameron, and listened to a recording of your communications that he played for me. It is clear that by the time you could have gotten there, young Mr. Creevey would already have been petrified, as well as your trooper friend."

"Tank," Harry said. "He was Blue 1."

"Mr. Tank, then," Dumbledore said. "If you had been there, the only difference you would likely have made is that you could have been petrified or killed. I do not want to even imagine reporting that to your Jedi Council, so I hope you forgive me in being grateful to Dobby for keeping you out of harm's way."

"That's enough visiting," Madame Pomfrey said, stepping out of her office. "You can come back tomorrow."

"I need to go apologize to Hermione," Harry said. "I was pretty rude to her."

"I think you will find that is an excellent choice, Harry," Dumbledore said.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He had gone back to the dormitory and was standing in front of Hermione, who was sitting on a couch with her arms crossed in front of her.

"I know you are, Harry," Hermione said, "but that doesn't make it right."

"I know," Harry said. "I didn't mean to yell at you, I was just scared."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Hermione asked, anger flashing in her eyes. Harry felt a moment's panic. He had seen her scared before, and she had shown irritation any number of times, but this was the first time he'd ever seen her truly angry. "I am not concerned about how you spoke to me. I can easily forgive that. What I cannot forgive is what you did to Dobby. You need to apologize to him."

"I will," Harry said. "I was already going to. I can't let myself lose control like that again."

"I should think not," Hermione said. She rolled her eyes and stood up. "Oh, come here," she said with some exasperation. She drew him into a hug and held on to him for several minutes.

* * *

Dumbledore entered his office. This had been a trying day, and it was not over yet. He stopped at the sight of Dobby, passed out on the floor. He crouched down and placed his hand on the elf's shoulder.

"Dobby?" he called out softly. Dobby let out a quiet groan as he awoke. He was bruised around his head where he had spent a half hour punishing himself for helping Master's enemies before finally knocking himself unconscious. "Do you need medical help, Dobby?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, sir," Dobby squeaked. "House-elves heal very quickly. Dobby will be fine."

"I wanted to thank you, Dobby," Dumbledore said.

Dobby's ears perked up, and his big eyes rose up from the point he was staring at on the floor to meet Dumbledore's eyes.

"Headmaster Dumbledore wants to thank Dobby?" he asked.

"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore answered. "I am aware that you cannot give up your master's secrets, and I am not asking you to. I want to thank you for keeping young Harry safe. I know he was quite upset at you, but I think he'll get over it sooner rather than later."

"Harry Potter is a great wizard, Headmaster Dumbledore," Dobby whispered. "Dobby knows Harry Potter did not mean it. Now Dobby must go finish ironing his hands." With a sigh, Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared again without a trace.

Dumbledore sat at his desk and began to write a letter to Colin's family. He would send it in the morning, but he owed it to his student to at least get it written before he slept. He was only halfway finished when the wards notified him of visitors arriving at the gates.

* * *

_Terror at Hogwarts! Mythical Chamber of Secrets opened!_

_News has come out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that the Chamber of Secrets, the legendary personal lair of Salazar Slytherin, has been opened. According to myth, a monster exists within that will purge the school of all whom the founder of Slytherin House did not deem worthy of attending the school. This has always been assumed to mean muggleborns._

_Now that the chamber has been opened, has the purging begun? It has come to our attention that one student has just been attacked by the Monster of Slytherin. Muggleborn student Colin Creevey, a first year Gryffindor, was turned to stone by the creature after the boy went seeking it out. It is unknown why Mr. Creevey attempted such a dangerous encounter. Sources inside Hogwarts have described the young muggleborn as 'addle-brained,' and 'a picture taking simpleton with the brains of a slug.'_

_According to these sources, those deemed unworthy may also include the strange 'Jed-eye' guardian of none other than Harry Potter. It is unknown why the Boy-Who-Lived-then-Disappeared-then-Reappeared has been in the custody of people who claim to come from other planets, but what is known for certain is that the man Harry Potter looks to most for guidance now lays petrified in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. Rumor has it that he cannot be revived for several months yet, if ever._

_We at the Daily Prophet would like to ask Headmaster Dumbledore why students are free to to enter parts of the castle that are clearly unsafe. Why has this section of the castle not been sealed off? Does he know who opened the Chamber, and how does he plan to keep his students safe?_

_(See page 12 for an account of the search for Harry Potter.)_

_(See page 21 for additional information on the mysterious 'Jed-eye.')_

_For your Daily Prophet,_

_Rita Skeeter_

* * *

"What in Merlin's name has been happening at Hogwarts?" Sirius muttered to himself as he put his paper down on the table of the Leaky Cauldron. With James's wand and the contents of his wardrobe, Sirius was looking much more respectable. His hair was still long, but he had trimmed it and made himself look presentable again. His hair was no longer jet black, but a light brown. Along with a pair of fake glasses, a clean shave, changing the style of clothes he was known to favor, and a glamour to alter his facial structure, he was sufficiently different enough to be able to walk about and buy a newspaper and a meal in the open. He still had to be careful, but at least he wasn't eating dog food anymore.

"It's those 'Jed-eye,'" answered an extremely old man who was sitting across from him. He had heard Sirius asking himself the question and took it as an invitation for a chat. "They took the Boy-Who-Lived and flew him away from us. Who knows what strange ideas they've been putting in his head?"

"Who are these 'Jed-eye?'" asked Sirius.

"Them's the ones that took him," the old man said it. "I saw it, all them years ago."

"What did you see?" Sirius asked.

"Back then I lived out with the muggles," the old man said. It sounded like a well-rehearsed story, lovingly retold time and time again. "Down near Surry it was. Normally I'd have been asleep at that hour, but not that night. That was the night Harry Potter went and stopped You-Know-Who. All the wizarding folk were out celebrating. Never quite figured how word spread so quick, but everyone knew. It was half past midnight or so, and the parties were starting to ease off a bit. I was walking home from my friend Peabody's house when I saw him."

"Who?" Sirius prompted. He was getting into the story in spite of his earlier reservations.

"He was a man in dark robes, carrying a baby," the old man continued. "It was the baby what caught my attention. You don't see people carrying the young ones around at that hour, parties or no. He crossed the road a bit ahead of where I was walking and disappeared down a drainage ditch. That got me mighty curious, all right. There's no good reason I can think of that someone would be taking a baby down a drainage ditch at any hour, let alone at half past midnight."

"What did you do?" Sirius asked.

"Well," the old man said, "I figured it was my civic duty to investigate. I crept up to where the fella dropped down and looked down into the ditch. It was a large ditch, what the muggles call a catch basin. Sitting at the bottom was the sky-ship."

"The sky-ship?" Sirius asked.

"Well," the old man said, defensively, "I don't know what else you'd call it. It looked somewhat like a boat, but not in the water. I figured that's where that fella took the baby. I started my way down into the ditch. I was moving pretty slow, because I wasn't no spring chicken even back then, mind you. When I was about halfway down, it happened."

"What?" Sirius asked again. While he was getting into the story, it was clear the old man liked having it dragged out of him.

"An unholy noise came from the sky-ship. It started off low, like a hum, but it wound up to a high-pitched scream!" the old man said. "A bright blue light came from underneath it and was followed by a burning hot wind. The ground shook and I fell. I was all set for a nasty tumble to be burnt to a crisp by whatever infernal fire was being blown from the underside of that monstrosity. Fortunately, I managed to catch a root sticking out of the ground with one hand, and I stopped myself from rolling down that ditch. I was still being cooked by the sky-ship's fire, of course, and I thought I'd go deaf from the noise. Finally, it rose up into the air!"

"Really?" Sirius asked, doubtfully.

"Yes!" The old man insisted. "Up, up, up it went, then it hung there, in the sky, sort of slowly wavering back and forth. I always thought it was like it was getting its bearings. Then, it tilted back a bit and shot forward faster than my eyes could follow. It was gone. I managed to crawl back up the side of the ditch. Was I ever a mess, though? Of course, I told all me neighbors about it. I was even in the muggle papers. They quoted me and everything. Course, they left out what I'd said about there having been a baby. They said there were no records of a missing baby and they didn't want to start a panic. It was a few days after that what everyone started looking for Harry Potter. They said he'd been kidnapped from right around Surry. Well, I knew that had to be him, didn't I?"

"How did you know it was Harry Potter?" Sirius asked.

"Well," answered the old man, "who else could it have been? No other little babies went missing right then and there."

Sirius had to admit he couldn't refute that logic.

"What ever became of it?" he asked.

"Became of it?" the old man asked. "Where have you been, under a rock? He was missing for ten years. Then he turned up, didn't he, out of the blue? Showed up at Hogwarts with a strange man in dark robes, they say. And there's talk that they flew there in sky-ships."

"Ahh, yes," said Sirius uncomfortably.

"Say," the old man said, squinting his eyes at Sirius. "You look somewhat familiar. Have we met?"

"No," Sirius said, quickly. "I'm just in town on business, been out of the country for a while. In fact, I need to go before I'm late." He got up from the table, leaving the Daily Prophet behind. He put some sickles down as payment, and left the Leaky Cauldron as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself.

"He was in an awful big hurry, wasn't he," the old man said to everyone at the table. He picked up the paper Sirius had left behind and opened it past the cover page. "Well, look at that," he said to the person sitting next to the seat Sirius had vacated. "Looks like Sirius Black may not have even got a trial! Says here there's a number for him to call and everything. Guess that explains why them dementors haven't been loosed after him. Mind you I'm happy 'bout that, anyway. Horrible things, them dementors. Did I ever tell you 'bout the time I met one. No? There I was, walking home one night. It was pitch black..."

* * *

Walking past the shops in Diagon Alley, Sirius reflected on the old man's story. It actually matched what he had found out so far, so it might not be as ludicrous as he originally thought. He had been horrified to learn from Petunia that Dumbledore had left Harry on her doorstep. He planned to take the old man to task for it if they ever met again. He was glad that someone other than the Dursleys had raised Harry. He remembered Vernon and Petunia from James and Lily's wedding, and if their behavior at the reception was an example of their opinion of wizards in general, Harry would have had a miserable life there.

The few accounts he had found in the paper and from listening to people talk painted a picture of Harry from the public's viewpoint. By all accounts he was an exceptionally good student, always winning one of the top spots in his class. Most of what he had heard were rumors, though. He needed to see Harry for himself.

He also had to get to Gringotts. Goblins were greedy little monsters who would charge their own mothers a premium fee to extinguish them if they were on fire. The one good thing about them was that once you had paid that fee, they delivered on what they promised. It cost a lot to do business without involving the Ministry, but when you were on the run, it was worth it.

* * *

Ginny didn't think she could take any more of this. First it was Harry's Jedi Master, now it was one of those strange troopers. Harry would hate her. And Colin… How could she ever face him again? He was always nice to her, and now he was petrified just because he got in the way.

She had tried to get rid of the diary, but every time she did it found its way back to her. She tied it shut with string. The string burned off. She even tried to burn it in the common room fire, but it was back in her book bag before she had even gotten back to her room.

Each time she tried, Tom was angrier and crueler than he was before. The book knew when she was alone, and it would appear in front of her. She wouldn't even open it anymore. It opened itself. She felt compelled to write in it. She tried to stop, but she couldn't. She tried to tell someone, but the words refused to pass her lips. All she could do was shake her head and run away.

Now, though, the diary had gone too far. She was determined that she would tell someone. She couldn't tell Harry, because he was the one Tom wanted. She couldn't tell Ron, he wouldn't understand. The twins would make fun of her. She was afraid that Hermione would try to figure the diary out on her own and get trapped as well. Who could she tell?

"Curfew!" Percy called out. "It's time for lights out, everyone!"

* * *

Percy was proud of being a prefect. He had worked incredibly hard to show good examples, obey the rules, and keep good grades. It had paid off last year and he was made a prefect. It was the first step in his plan to eventually become Minister for Magic.

He was just calling lights out to everyone when his sister emerged from her room: he had been extremely concerned about her, and had even forced her to the Hospital Wing earlier. She still didn't look like she felt well.

"Ginny?" he asked, "are you alright?"

Ginny's shook her head.

"Do you need to go to the hospital wing?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head no again.

"What do you need, then?" he asked.

"I need to see the headmaster," Ginny finally said. It looked like it had taken a great deal of effort to say, and tears were streaming down her face. She was clutching her diary so hard that her fingers were making dents in the leather cover.

Percy did not think the diary was good for her. She had taking to writing in it all the time. He felt a visit to the headmaster night actually be the best thing for her. Dumbledore would sort this out.

"Ok, Ginny," he said, gently. "I'll escort you." He took her by the shoulder and began to gently guide her down the stairs. That's when his idiot brothers decided to get themselves involved.

"Hey," yelled one of the twins, "where are you taking Ginny?"

"Be quiet, Fred," Percy said, irritated. He'd been trying to get her out of the dorm without too much attention, since Ginny would likely run back to her room if everyone knew. That plan was now well and truly ruined.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," protested one twin.

"Hey," argued the other twin, "I thought I was George today, your turn is tomorrow. Anyway, where are you going with Ginny? Wouldn't want the ickle firsty to be caught out after curfew."

"Unless you're finally embracing rule breaking," the first twin said to Percy with a grin, "in which case we wholeheartedly approve."

Ginny panicked. Twisting her way out of Percy's grip, she bolted up the stairs. Percy didn't want her to fall back into writing in the diary again when he was so close to maybe getting her actual help. Leave it to the twins to ruin everything! He drew his wand.

" _Accio_ diary!" Percy cast, and the leather book slipped out of Ginny's grasp and flew to Percy. Ginny looked back at Percy, terrified at having lost the diary. Just before Percy could catch it, one of the twins tried to snatch it and it went flying. Ron caught it, and was immediately set upon by both twins, who were both intent on reading the diary.

What followed was a free-for-all between Percy, the Twins, and Ron, who hadn't even wanted to be part of this at all.

"Enough!" yelled Professor McGonagall. With the perfect timing that every good teacher develops, she had been passing the common room entrance just in time to hear the yelling. "Never, in all my years have I seen such a display. 50 points from Gryffindor, and a week's detention each!"

"But Professor," protested Ron, "I didn't even want to be part of this! They all just landed on me."

"Is that true, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall asked Percy.

"Yes ma'am," Percy confirmed. "I was trying to take my sister to Headmaster Dumbledore at her request, when the twins started the ruckus. Ginny ran back upstairs when they called attention to her."

"Why does your sister need to see the headmaster at this hour?" McGonagall asked.

"I'm not sure," Percy answered, "but she's been having a hard time fitting in this year, and it's been getting worse. She asked to see him, and I think he might be able to help. Please, Professor, I'm extremely concerned about her."

"Very well, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said. "I will retrieve Ginevra from her dormitory, and you and the twins can come to the headmaster's office as well. Perhaps you can explain to him why you were fighting." She turned to Ron. "I'm sorry, Mr Weasley, I had thought you were part of this fight. You will not receive detention, and I will not be deducting points from you." She glared at the twins, who ducked their heads down. "I'll still be taking twenty points a piece from you," she said, sternly.

* * *

Ginny was mortified. Professor McGonagall kept asking her what was wrong, but she literally could not say. Percy had taken the diary back from the twins and was bringing it with them to Dumbledore's office. She kept throwing terrified glances at the diary, which she was certain was furious with her. Finally, they reached the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office.

"Sherbet Lemon," Professor McGonagall said to the statue. It didn't budge. "Has he changed it again?" she asked, exasperated. "Very well, please inform the headmaster that I am here to see him with the Weasley students." The gargoyle stepped aside and allowed them to enter. "Thank you."

They rode the spiral staircase to the top of the stairs and McGonagall knocked on the large wooden doors. They opened on their own, and the group entered. The headmaster's chair was turned away from them, and it slowly rotated to face them as they approached the desk. All of their jaws dropped in shock. Behind the headmaster's desk sat Lucius Malfoy.


	19. Chapter 19

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

"Where is Headmaster Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"I'm afraid Dumbledore has been suspended," Malfoy answered, handing her a parchment with the Hogwarts logo on it. "You will find all twelve signatures are in place. With this latest attack, the governors and I feel he's rather lost his touch."

"Why are you sitting at the Headmaster's desk?" asked Percy in his 'I am a prefect' tone.

"I would mind your tone, were I you," Mr. Malfoy warned. "If you must know, the board of governors has decided to take a more… active role in the running of the school."

"What role might that be?" McGonagall asked, giving him a frosty look. "As Deputy Headmistress, I believe I am the best qualified to run this school in Headmaster Dumbledore's absence."

"Have no fear, Professor McGonagall," Malfoy said with a smile. "I am not here to usurp your throne. You may retain your position as Acting Headmistress. I have been appointed by the board to the position of High Inquisitor. I have decided that this shall be my office."

"High Inquisitor?" asked McGonagall. "Are you sure that is necessary? There hasn't been a High Inquisitor at Hogwarts for over four hundred years."

"You have a student petrified in your Hospital Wing, Headmistress," Malfoy said. "Clearly, something must be done."

"What's a High Inquisitor?" asked Fred. McGonagall gave him a quelling look that clearly told Fred that now was not the time for questions. Since he asked in front of Mr. Malfoy, though, she had to answer.

"Traditionally," she said, "the High Inquisitor managed discipline and standards of teaching. It is not something we have needed for centuries."

"The board felt that it's time has come again," Malfoy added. "Now, what can your High Inquisitor do for you this evening? I believe it is already past curfew."

All of them hesitated. McGonagall hadn't thought twice about bringing the girl to Dumbledore, but she just couldn't subject Ginny to Lucius Malfoy.

"It is not your concern," she answered. "It was an issue I was going to bring to Headmaster Dumbledore. As I am now Acting Headmistress, I believe the duty falls to me to deal with."

"Surely I can help?" Malfoy insisted.

"You've only just been appointed," McGonagall responded. "It is also, as you have reminded me, already past curfew. I will be returning these students to their dormitory."

"I think not," Lucius said. "Whatever is the matter, it was important enough to have four students make the trip all the way up here from Gryffindor tower after curfew. Surely you can tell me why?"

"It's my sister," Percy said, hating to tell anything to the elder Malfoy, but recognizing that they'd have to tell him something before they'd be allowed to leave. "Ginny has been having a tough time fitting in this year, and she was upset. She wanted to see Headmaster Dumbledore."

"I see," said Lucius, letting his gaze settle on Ginny. "And the book?" he asked, looking back at Percy. "I cannot help but notice your sister seems quite... fixated on it."

"It's her diary," Percy said, knowing he would be caught if he tried to lie.

"Why, Mr. Weasley, are you in the possession of a young girl's diary?" Lucius inquired. There was an awkward moment of silence.

"This is clearly a family issue," McGonagall said, trying to end the inquiry.

"I note that a considerable number of points was just taken from Gryffindor," he said, gesturing at a small version of the points hourglass in the great hall that sat upon the headmaster's desk. "As you have said, discipline issues are now my responsibility as High Inquisitor. Might I inquire as to the reason for the point loss?"

"We got into a fight," one of the twins said, sulkily.

"A fight," Malfoy repeated. "Well, we cannot have that, now can we?" He stood up, abruptly. "All of you," he said to the Weasley children, "put your wands on the desk for inspection."

All of the Weasley's looked at each other for support. McGonagall sighed and nodded to them. They placed their wands in a row on the headmaster's desk. Lucius picked up Percy's wand, waved his own wand over it, and muttered an incantation. A mist appeared above the wand. It must have made sense to Malfoy, though, because he looked up at Percy.

"A summoning charm?" Lucius asked. Percy nodded. "And what might you have been summoning?"

"My sister's diary," Percy answered, stiffly.

"Tsk, tsk," the new Headmaster scolded. "Have you no shame?" Malfoy extended his hand towards the diary, clearly ordering Percy to hand it over. Percy did so with a scowl.

"Theft of personal property," Lucius said. He put Percy's wand back on his desk, away from the others. He placed the diary next to it. He picked up either Fred or George's wand next and performed the same spell on it.

"The Furnunculus Curse," he said with a smile. "On whom did you perform this?" he asked. No one answered. "Assault," he declared and placed the wand next to Percy's. He did the same with the other twin's wand. "Lumos?" he asked with a frown.

"That's right," said one of the twins, gesturing at his identical brother. "George here lost something under his bed, he was looking for it."

"I suppose we can count that as a confession for the curse," Lucius said, placing the wand he was holding on the desk, away from the other two. He picked up Ginny's wand and said the incantation again. "A color changing charm?"

Ginny didn't say anything, just kept her eyes at the carpet in front of the Headmaster's desk.

"She's been learning it in Charm's class," Percy said.

"Of course," said Malfoy. He put her wand next to the one that indicated a lumos charm and picked up the diary. "You have my most sincere apologies, Miss Weasley," Lucius said as he handed the diary to the young girl. "You have my assurances that this theft of your diary will not go unpunished. Your diary is yours to write in however you see fit, and it is certainly none of my business to know what it contains." He turned to McGonagall. "Please return Miss Weasley to her dormitory at once."

"All of you," McGonagall said to the Weasley children, "pick up your wands and come with me." They all grabbed their wands from the desk, and McGonagall turned to lead them out.

"You may take Miss Weasley and whichever of them used the Lumos charm," Malfoy ordered, "but the other two will remain." McGonagall turned to face Lucius.

"I will not be leaving children alone with you for any reason, Mr. Malfoy," she said, sternly. "The board may have appointed you as High Inquisitor, but until such time as Albus Dumbledore returns, all of the children in this castle are under my protection. I remember very well when you were a student here. I recall many of the crimes you bought your way out of taking responsibility for. Quite frankly, if the law would allow it, I would remove young Draco from you as well."

"You should be careful," Malfoy hissed. "As High Inquisitor, I do have the power to inspect all of the teachers. I would be extremely disappointed to find your performance… wanting."

"I have every confidence in my abilities as a teacher, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, ushering the Weasley children out of the door. "I was your transfiguration professor, after all. I taught you everything you know about the art. I did not, however, teach you everything I know about it."

"I will need to speak with Harry Potter in the morning," Malfoy said, abruptly changing the subject."

"May I ask what for?" McGonagall asked.

"It's none of your concern," Malfoy said, dismissively.

"As his Head of House and Acting Headmistress, I disagree," McGonagall said. She stared at Malfoy expectantly.

"I will be removing these outsiders from the castle," Malfoy said, "and thought it only polite to inform him."

"I see," McGonagall said. "Indeed, you might find them difficult to remove unless he orders it. The troopers answer to Mr. Potter. Also, I will remind you again that access to this castle is granted or denied at the pleasure of the Headmaster. Or, in this case, the Acting Headmistress. Kindly refrain from activities that fall outside of the scope of your position, Mr. Malfoy."

"That will be all," Malfoy said, coldly.

"I will give you some free advice, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "Harry Potter is not a typical twelve-year-old. He is not one who can be bullied or pushed into doing what he does not wish to do. Come to think of it, neither am I. I highly advise you to keep that in mind during your time in this school, short as it will hopefully be."

"If that will be all?" Mr. Malfoy sneered.

"One final thing, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "You were seventeen years old when I caught you dragging a second year into a broom closet against her will. Your father bought your way out of a trip to Azkaban then. Try it again, and I will not be putting my faith in the Aurors a second time. Do we understand one another?"

"How dare you?" Malfoy spat.

"I take my responsibilities to my students very seriously, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "I dare because it is my duty to. I will be returning these students to their common room now." She turned away to usher the Weasley children out. She stopped and turned back. "Oh, yes," she added. "You do not have the luxury of choosing the Headmasters office as your own. Kindly clear out of my office, immediately."

* * *

"How am I to manage this without you?" Minerva ranted. She was pacing back and forth in Dumbledore's quarters.

"I have every faith in you, my dear," Dumbledore said. "Unfortunately, this is no longer a conflict I can fight from within Hogwarts. Having been suspended by the board, I can remain only as a guest. I will go to the ministry, and see if anyone there still remembers any of the favors most of them owe me."

"Will the ministry be able to override the board of governors?" Minerva asked.

"Not directly," Dumbledore answered. "As you well know, the ministry has no direct influence on Hogwarts. But indirectly, pressure can be placed on certain individuals to bring about a desired outcome. It's not how I prefer to operate, but when you're riding a hippogriff, you must rely on his wings."

"You should have seen him sitting at your desk, as bold as brass," Minerva groused. "He actually had the nerve to try to claim your office for himself."

"Yes," Albus said with a smile. "In truth, it was the office of Headmaster he was truly after. Not the physical space, but the power that comes with it."

"Merlin forbid," Minerva said fervently. "He would abuse that power mercilessly."

"It was his argument that I have already done so," Albus said. "His original demand was for me to be sacked and for himself to be my replacement. Fortunately, enough members of the board are still loyal enough to me to limit my termination to a suspension. Lucius, however, had a backup plan. This saw him installed as High Inquisitor. I admit that I had not foreseen that. I will be looking to you to protect the students in my absence."

"I refuse to allow that man to be alone with any child but his own," Minerva insisted.

"Of course," Albus agreed. "You have held your post as Deputy Headmistress for many years. The castle grants some additional privileges, as you know, to the acknowledged headmaster. One of the less well-known facts is that the headmaster is the highest authority to grant or deny access to the castle and grounds."

"I have already had to remind him of that fact," Minerva said.

"Yes," Albus agreed, "but I would caution you to be careful as to the usage of that power. If you were to have the wards remove him without a cause that the board would recognize, there will be consequences we do not wish to pay."

"You're saying that we're stuck with him?" Minerva asked, clearly disappointed.

"For now," Albus said. "This too, shall pass, however, and we are _only_ stuck with him for now."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was seething. He was pacing back and forth before Dumbledore's desk. High Inquisitor was a fine office, but he had told the board he wanted the Headmaster position. Eventually, he would make them suffer for defying him.

He had been growing concerned over the diary's lack of progress, and he had clearly been right to worry. If he hadn't, the diary would now be in Dumbledore's hands. McGonagall was another who would have to pay. He was infuriated over her demand that he clear out to lesser quarters. Since she retained the Acting Headmistress role, he could not completely defy her orders. If he refused, she could oust him from the castle. He would have a cup of tea at Dumbledore's desk before he did so, though.

"Dobby," Lucius called. There was a small pop as Dobby appeared beside him. This was accompanied by the loud siren of an alarm that sent Lucius's hands to cover his ears. It took him a few tries with his wand to reset the alarm. He looked suspiciously at Dobby, who was cringing in fear. Was it a coincidence that the alarm had gone off when Dobby had arrived, or was something going on he had not yet considered?

"Dobby," he ordered, "go back to the manor, wait for three minutes, and then return with a pot of tea. Make sure you enter this room in the same manner as you just did now."

"Yes, Great Master," whimpered Dobby. He popped out, not being able to refuse. While he waited, Lucius called for a Hogwarts house elf to come and bring him a small meal. No alarm sounded at the house-elf's coming or going, though the elf eyed him suspiciously. Another soft pop announced Dobby's return, accompanied by the alarm again. He only needed one try to reset it again.

"Would you care to explain," Lucius hissed at Dobby, "why there is a ward keyed to you in this office?" he asked the cowering elf.

Dobby could not answer. He could only sit there on the floor and shiver as his master approached him with his wand pointed at him.


	20. Chapter 20

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Sirius Black marveled at how much the past ten years had changed him. As a young man, he would have thought that sleeping on a cot inside a trunk which was hidden in the woods to be the very definition of 'roughing it.' After running away and sleeping on his best friend's couch for a couple of summers, his opinion would have been very little different. Ten years in Azkaban adds a bit of perspective. The trunk was clean and dry, warming charms provided by James's wand kept him from freezing, and all the rabbits Padfoot could catch turned this trunk in the woods into a palace. Fortunately it was a portable palace.

He was hesitant to use too much magic outside of the trunk. He knew Mad Eye would be tracking him, and would know he had a wand. He probably had a good idea of whose wand he had, too.

Trying to avoid being seen, he moved only at night. His animagus form was well suited towards stealth, but he was still being cautious. Every night he travelled a little closer to Hogwarts. He was somewhat hindered by not knowing precisely where it was. He could apparatus to the front gates easily enough, but he might as well ring the doorbell. He figured with his knowledge of the secret passages he could make an entrance far more worthy of a Marauder.

It had taken him several months, but he finally caught a glimpse of the castle. He shed some tears at the sight of it. The castle represented the best years of his life. Free of the effects of the dementors, he was having trouble not letting bursts of joy overwhelm him.

He found it very difficult to sleep that day. He was close to Harry, and he had so many questions about what had happened. He needed to know where he had disappeared to, why it had happened, and if Harry was happy.

He spent that night probing the boundaries of the castle, feeling for the ward lines. The Forbidden Forest was as accessible as it had ever been, as long as you were quick enough to avoid the acramantulas and centaurs. He found a small cave on a hill bordering the forest where the entrance was fairly well hidden. He decided to use it as his base of operations. From there, he could observe both Hogsmeade and Hogwarts while still remaining out of sight.

He spent some time adding to the foliage around the cave entrance, making it harder to spot, and digging a hole inside that he could hide the trunk in during the day. He'd still keep it with him when he left the cave, though, as he didn't want to risk losing it if he had to make a run for it.

He crept into Hogsmeade at dawn, intent on getting more information as to the happenings in the school. Just as he was about to snatch a discarded paper, he heard someone shout out.

"Hey!" The voice shouted, "there he is! It's Black!" Padfoot abandoned the paper and scurried away, dodging left and right to avoid any incoming spells. Strangely enough, there wasn't any. He retreated back to his cave, taking a winding route in case he was being followed. He put the shrunken trunk in the hole he had dug and enlarged it. Climbing in, he covered the hole with a bed of vegetation he had prepared, and closed the trunk.

For the rest of the day, Sirius tossed and turned on his cot. Something was bothered him, but he couldn't quite place it. It wasn't until night fell and he was getting ready to try Hogsmeade again that he realized what it was. They had seen Padfoot and called him Black. His big secret was out.

* * *

Ron Weasley couldn't sleep. After learning from his brothers that Dumbledore had been suspended, he was terrified. Worse, Malfoy's father was now something called the High Inquisitor. Ron didn't know what that meant exactly, but if it involved the Malfoy family, it couldn't be good.

What was keeping him up, though, was a nightmare he was having about his sisters diary. He dreamed it kept talking to him, causing him to toss and turn all night. Eventually, Seamus had grumbled that Ron should go down to the common room if he couldn't lay still.

Ron decided he'd try to get some hot chocolate to settle his nerves and sleep on a couch in front of the fire. He was just entering the common room from the stairwell when a book slowly drifted in front of his face. Ron looked around him with his mouth hanging open. Dozens of books, quills, ink pots, parchment and cushions were slowly rotating around the common room. In the center of all of this was Harry Potter, calmly sitting on the ceiling.

Harry's eyes were closed, and he looked supremely peaceful. He was sitting cross-legged with his arms folded in front of him. The thin braid of hair he wore hung down, but it was apparently the only thing in the room that was obeying gravity. Ron wasn't even sure if Harry was aware of all the floating books and stuff. He didn't want to call out to Harry, worried that it would make him fall. His fears were relieved when Harry, mindful of the late hour, spoke in a quiet voice.

"Trouble sleeping?" Harry asked. His eyes were still closed, but clearly he was still aware of his surroundings.

"Yeah," Ron answered. "Why are you on the ceiling?" Ron wished he could have asked that in a way that didn't make him sound stupid, but was short on sleep which tended to make him blunt.

"Just doing my excercises," Harry answered, opening his eyes. The floating objects flew back to where Ron supposed they started from. Harry began to slowly descend. With a graceful flip be righted himself before his feet touched the ground again.

"You do know it's only three in the morning, don't you?" Ron asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," Harry said, smiling. "It's the only time I really have available to do my Jedi excersises. Normally, I'd do these on the grounds, but I'm not allowed until this creature business is dealt with."

"Do you miss him?" Ron asked. "Toma, I mean."

"Of course," Harry answered. He didn't really want to talk about it, though, at least not with Ron Weasley. "So," Harry said, changing the subject, "what's keeping you up?"

Ron told Harry what his brothers had said about Dumbledore being suspended, and Mr. Malfoy being something called a High Inquisitor. He then described the nightmare he had about Ginny's diary.

"It's weird," Ron finished. "Ginny is obsessed with it. I only held it for a moment, and now I'm having nightmares about it talking to me."

"Do you remember anything that it said?" Harry asked.

"Not really," Ron said. "Just that it was angry."

"We've been wondering about that diary as well," Harry said, thoughtfully. "Someone told us they thought they'd seen Ginny arguing with it." Harry stood up. "Mr. Malfoy," he exclaimed, angrily. "This all has something to do with him."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron. "He's only been in the school less than one night."

"Yes," Harry responded, "but he owns Dobby."

"Isn't Dobby that House-Elf?" Ron asked.

"He's the Malfoys House-Elf," Harry answered. "He tried to warn us about the attacks this year, but couldn't tell us anything specific. He's been trying to keep me safe, though he seems to have some odd ideas of what safe means. He keeps trying to help me, even though that means disobeying his master." Ron's eyes widened.

"It takes a lot to make a House-Elf even try to disobey," Ron said in a whisper.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "he seems to be abused pretty badly."

"You don't understand," Ron said. "House-Elves are bound to their families. They can't disobey their masters. The few times I've even heard of it happening it's been little stuff. Overcooking the meat, or pouring a different wine than the one they knew their master wanted. This is way bigger than that!"

"Does your family have a House-Elf?" Harry asked.

"No," Ron said, a trace of longing in his voice. "I wish we had, he could de-gnome the garden for me. Mum wouldn't think of it, though. Anytime we'd mention getting an elf, even as a joke, she'd have a fit." He changed his voice to a falsetto, imitating his mother. " _We are not enslaving a helpless elf just so you can skip out on chores, Ronald Weasley!"_ Both boys laughed at the less then flattering voice Ron used.

"She does have a point, though," Harry said.

"I know," Ron sighed. "I don't really want a slave, of course. I just hate de-gnoming the garden. Most people who have elves don't treat them like slaves, anyway. They treat them like members of the family, for the most part. Mum still wouldn't get one, though. Elves love to cook and clean, and can get funny about things if you try to do them yourself. Mum would never let one take over her cooking."

"Where did you learn about elves?" Harry asked. "We haven't covered them in any of our classes yet."

"We're purebloods," Ron said, with a blush. "Not that we think that means anything, mind you, but it does mean I've grown up around magic."

"Why wouldn't that mean something?" Harry asked.

"All it means is that I've had nothing but witches and wizards all the way up through both great grandparents," Ron explained. "Some people, like the Malfoys, put a lot of value on being a pureblood. They lord it over anyone who isn't. They call us Weasleys blood-traitors, because we've never held with that nonsense. It's whether you have magic that makes you a witch or wizard, not your blood. And my dad's facinated with muggles. He loves them. People like the Malfoys hate all things muggle."

"I think your family has the right of it," Harry said.

"Hey," Ron said, "do you think Draco is involved?"

"I doubt it," Harry said.

"He did conjure that snake that bit you," Ron argued. "The whole school has been calling him the Heir of Slytherin."

"That was Dobby," Harry explained. "He changed the spell trying to get me to leave.

"Have you tried calling Dobby?" Ron asked. "I don't know that much about elves, but if he's disobeying that badly, his bond to the Malfoys must be pretty weak."

"How would I call him?" Harry asked.

"You just call his name," Ron explained. "Elves can hear their name being called from anywhere. Mind you, they don't have to answer, not unless they're owned by you. Here at school, you can just ask for an elf, though. You don't need to know their name. They don't always come for students, though. Watch, I'll call one."

"What, now?" Harry asked.

Ron spoke as if he were talking to the whole room. "Can a Hogwarts elf bring us two hot chocolates, please?" he called out. With a slight pop, a small, female elf appeared in the common room. She had a tray with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, which she served to the boys.

"Young sirs should be sleeping at this hour," she admonished them."

"Sorry," Harry apologized. "Ron was having trouble sleeping."

"Topsy thinks it would be easier for sir to fall asleep if sir were in his bed," the elf insisted. Ron took a big gulp of the hot chocolate.

"I definitely feel a lot better," Ron said in an unconvincing voice. "This is really helping a lot."

"Drink your chocolate," Topsy said," and gets back to bed." She popped away, leaving the two boys trying not to laugh at her stern expression.

"Like I said," Ron said with a guffaw, "they get funny about things."

"So," Harry said, looking at the clock. "Do you think I should call Dobby?"

"He's not your elf," Ron said, considering, "so he probably won't answer. Even if he does, the Malfoys would be offended if they ever found out about it. They're gits, though, so their opinion doesn't matter. Call him, see what happens."

"Dobby," Harry said, softly.

"No," Ron said. "You can't just say the name. We've said his name half a dozen times, but he wouldn't have heard them because we were just talking about him, not to him. You have to call out like you were calling him." Harry nodded and tried again.

"Dobby," he called out. With a louder than normal crack, Dobby appeared on the floor in front of the boys. To their horror, they realized that only half of Dobby had appeared. Where his legs had been we're just two bloody stumps.

"Harry Potter," Dobby said, weakly, holding out one hand to reach for Harry. Then Dobby passed out.


	21. Chapter 21

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

"Dobby!" Harry yelled. He rushed to the elf and dropped to his knees. Picking Dobby up, Harry cradled him as tears flooded his eyes. Ron stood with a hand over his mouth, horrified by the blood soaking the front of Harry's robes.

Shooter, who Ron hadn't even noticed, rushed over from the corner he had stationed himself in. He reached for a first aid kit on his utility belt and sprayed a liquid on the stumps where the elf's legs had been severed. It slowed the bleeding but did not stop it.

"What's going on in here?" a deep voice asked. Harry turned to find Aurors Dawlish and Tonks rushing into the common room. They were occupying the Head Boy and Girl rooms to stay close to Harry, and one was typically on duty half the day while the other took the other half.

Dawlish was on the night shift and was dressed in his auror robes. Tonks, who fit in better with the students, had the day shift. She had been awakened by the commotion, and was dressed only in thin pajama shorts and a white tank top.

"It's Dobby!" Harry cried. "I called for him, and he just popped in like this." Dawlish waved his wand over the unconscious house elf and muttered a spell. The stumps stopped bleeding, but Dobby's skin had paled nearly white. His breathing was labored and raspy.

"Tonks," Dawlish ordered, "get this elf to the hospital wing, now!" Tonks scooped Dobby out of Harry's arms and scrambled out of the portrait hole.

"I'm going with him," Harry said, getting to his feet. Dawlish put his hand on Harry's shoulder and stopped him.

"No," Dawlish said. "It's after curfew. Madam Pomfrey is always in the hospital wing, she'll see to the elf."

"No," Harry protested. "Let me go!"

"Harry, you have to tell me what is going on," insisted Dawlish. "I can't help unless I know the situation." He was a big man, but his words stopped Harry more than his hand on the Jedi's shoulder. He was speaking calmly and wasn't shouting. It was a trick he had learned as an Auror. He found it worked far better than blustering.

"Ron and I were talking..." Harry began. He talked for some time. Dawlish did not interrupt, and only spoke to gently press Harry to continue when he got to the part where Dobby appeared. Harry told him everything that they had learned from Dobby, including who owned him. He also shared their concerns about Ginny's diary. Finally, Harry finished his report.

"These are very serious allegations, Mr. Potter," Dawlish said.

"They're the truth," Harry insisted.

"I know you believe them to be so," Dawlish said, cautiously, "and I hope you trust me to take them seriously. I need you to understand that nothing can be done at this time, however."

"Why not?" Harry asked, coldly.

"Because of who Lucius Malfoy is," explained Dawlish, "and what your friend Dobby is. We cannot charge Mr. Malfoy with a crime without proof, and the only witness is a house-elf."

"A house-elf that Malfoy cut in half!" protested Harry.

"I know this upsets you," Dawlish said, calmly. "It's not fair, and it's not right, but the truth is that elves do not currently enjoy the same protections that people do. Dobby's testimony would not be admissible, even if he were allowed to speak against his master. Mr. Malfoy could simply explain that Dobby had splinched himself, and Dobby would never say anything to refute that. Even if Mr. Malfoy confessed to it, it wouldn't make any difference. I'm afraid mutilating a house-elf is not even a crime."

"So that's it?" Harry said, bitterly. "Lucius Malfoy can chop the legs off an elf, and he gets away with it?"

"I urge you to not say or do anything at this time," Dawlish said, firmly. "I agree with you that this is evil, but you cannot win by attacking him now. He has too many allies in too many positions of power. If you attack him without a cause recognized by the law, you will lose. All that can be done is to begin an investigation, and try to keep it quiet. If the wrong people were to even discover there is an investigation they could stop it without repercussions."

Harry could see red clouding the edges of his vision, and knew he needed to calm down. His emotions were spinning out of control, and he knew that any action he took now would not be rational. He reluctantly nodded his agreement to Dawlish, then sank to his knees and began to meditate.

The portrait hole opened to admit Professor McGonagall. She took in the blood that covered Harry and the floor in front of him, and Dawlish had to quickly explain that her student was not injured. The Auror filled McGonagall in on everything he had just learned.

* * *

Tonks ran as fast as she could, praying that her trademark clumsiness wouldn't rear it's ugly head. By some miracle, she made it to the hospital wing without tripping, slipping, or falling. She rushed in, calling for Madam Pomfrey. Rev was awake, fiddling with some equipment, and Doc quickly woke and rose from the cot she was sleeping on. Madam Pomfrey emerged from a doorway just as she was being called and ordered Tonks to place Dobby on a bed.

Pomfrey examined the house-elf using diagnostic spells while Doc and Rev scanned him with handheld devices. The school mediwitch had settled her differences with the medics, and they worked well together. The stumps had started bleeding again while Tonks carried Dobby and refused to stay closed.

"These wounds are cursed," Pomfrey proclaimed. "They'll never fully heal." Doc tapped some parameters into her scanner and handed it to Rev.

"Get these made up, top priority," she ordered." Rev took the scanner to a box that was set up in the corner the medics had claimed for their use. It was the largest piece of equipment they had brought with them. Using extremely precise miniature tractor and repulsor beams, it could manufacture anything it was programmed to. It's only constraint, other than the size of the object to be made, was the availability of the raw materials to use.

While Rev was setting up the replicator, Madam Pomfrey was pouring potions into Dobby's mouth.

"Blood replenishers," she said, answering Doc's unasked question.

"Will they work on an elf?" Doc asked.

"Yes," Pomfrey answered. "They work by duplicating the blood you already have, so even though an elf's blood is very different from ours, it will work for anyone. I can't administer them forever, though."

"Here, Doc," Rev said, and handed her two small, silver colored devices from the replicator. They were shaped like little domes, with holes the exact shape of the stumps that were all that was left of Dobby's legs. Doc took them, put them on Dobby's stumps, and activated them. With two identical clicks, the devices clamped onto the stumps. Small indicator lights began to flash in several colors and patterns as the devices began to operate.

Professor McGonagall walked into the hospital wing and stood next to Tonks, watching. She looked at the state of the younger woman's shirt, which was almost completely soaked red with Dobby's blood and waved her wand. The blood faded away. McGonagall frowned at the limited clothing the Tonks was wearing, and conjured a simple robe, which wrapped itself around the younger woman. Tonks, watching the progress, didn't even notice.

"What are those?" Pomfrey asked, pointing at the devices that were attached to Dobby.

"Limb caps," answered Doc. "They're customized for him. They'll not just stop the bleeding, but will also send the blood they collect back into his system. They won't restore any functionality, but it's better than just leaving a stump, since the veins and arteries will work as normal."

"I think it's working," Pomfrey said, noting that Dobby's color was improving.

"Madam Pomfrey," asked Professor McGonagall, "would it be possible to put this elf in a private room?"

"A private room?" Pomfrey asked, confused.

"Yes," McGonagall said. "Headmaster Dumbledore has been temporarily removed by the board. Lucius Malfoy has been installed as High Inquisitor."

"Oh my," Pomfrey exclaimed.

"Indeed," McGonagall said. "This is his house-elf, Dobby. We believe Mr. Malfoy is the cause of his injuries. We'd like to make sure Mr. Malfoy is unaware his elf is in your care."

"I'll have to keep him unconscious," Pomfrey said. "Private room or not, if that man calls him, he'd be compelled to answer."

"I'll leave it in your hands," McGonagall said. "How is he?"

"It was a very close thing," Pomfrey said. "If he'd gotten here a minute later, or these limb caps Dr. Silva and Mister Rev provided hadn't worked, he would already have died."

"Well done, then" McGonagall said. "All of you."

* * *

The next morning was a Saturday, and Hermione woke to find Harry still awake in the common room. She was horrified to learn what had happened to Dobby, and furious to learn it wasn't even a crime.

Dawlish had a much harder time keeping her calm about it and had to promise multiple times that he would start an investigation. Hermione, furious at the unfairness of the wizarding legal system, had to be coaxed to breakfast. She was going to skip it, planning out a multi-tiered rebellion to secure elf rights.

Ginny was beyond horrified to learn of Dobby's injuries. She refused to leave her room and wouldn't allow anyone to even speak to her. The twins were far more subdued than normal, knowing they lucky McGonagall refused to allow Mr. Malfoy to punish them.

That morning at breakfast, the entire school found that everything had changed. Dumbledore was rarely at breakfast, but someone new was present. Lucius Malfoy stood at the podium and directed everyone to pay attention.

"Good morning, students," he began. "In light of the dangerous circumstances you have found yourselves in, I am pleased to announce that the Board of Governors has elected to take a more active role in keeping you safe. For that reason, it has been decided that the man who allowed these attacks to continue would be removed, and that I would step in as High Inquisitor. Professor McGonagall has graciously agreed to perform the role of acting headmistress. If you have any concerns, please feel free to ask her about them. In order to maintain your safety, you will be divided into sections within your own year group. You will find a roster of these new groups in your common room after breakfast. You will also be issues patches to place on your robes that will clearly show which section you belong in. Any students found to be mingling with a group outside of their assigned section will be issued a detention. That will be all."

Lucius finished his speech, then turned to leave the Great Hall. As he passed Professor Snape, who was standing behind the chair he usually used during meals, he stopped.

"I wonder if we could have a word, Severus," Lucius asked. "In private, if you please."

"Of course," Snape answered. "My quarters should suffice."

During his speech, the entire school was in shock that Dumbledore had been removed. Most of the Slytherins reacted with wild applause. Draco participated, though his face had initially gone white when he saw his father sitting at the head table. Daphne Greengrass gave a much shorter, but still polite, clap. She then locked eyes with Neville and gave a short shake of her head. Her unspoken message was received.

"We need to lay low," Neville told Harry and Hermione in a whisper.

"Lay low?" hissed Hermione. She was outraged that Dobby's mutilator was now in a position of authority. "That evil man chopped Dobby's legs off!"

"Daphne just told me we need to lay low," Neville insisted.

"She's sitting at the other end of the Great Hall," Hermione protested.

"I know," Neville said. "I don't know any other way to put it. She told me to lay low."

"Are you trying to tell us you can read each other's minds?" Hermione asked.

"No, nothing like that," Neville said. "I just know she wants us to not make a fuss about this right now."

"She's right," Harry said. Hermione shot him a look of betrayal. "I'm not saying I'm going to let him get away with it," Harry insisted. "It's just not the right time yet."

* * *

Cornelius Fudge hated working on Saturdays, but it wouldn't do to ignore a request for a meeting with Dumbledore. The man may have stepped down from the ICW and the Wizengamot, but if there were ever a wizard who held the key to influence, it was Albus Dumbledore.

He arrived early that morning, as Dumbledore's owl indicated a matter of some importance. He sat at his desk and had barely been settled when his secretary announced Dumbledore.

"Ah, Albus," Cornelius greeted. He stood and shook hands with Dumbledore as the old wizard entered his office. "Welcome, welcome."

"Minister," Albus greeted Cornelius, taking a seat.

"Have you had breakfast?" Cornelius asked. "If not, there's a delightful new bakery just down the street. It's a muggle shop, but the pastries are amazing."

"Thank you, Minister," said Albus. "I've already eaten, but I'll keep it in mind for next time."

"Splendid," Cornelius said with a smile. "Now, what can I do for you today?"

Albus, who usually delighted in small talk, was in no mood for it on this day.

"You can get that man out of my school," he answered.

"You mean Lucius?" Cornelius inquired. "Yes, I can imagine you would be upset by that."

"I need to be reinstated," Albus said.

"Why on earth would you think I could do that?" the minister asked with a laugh. "He was appointed by the board of governors, not the Ministry."

"Surely you can see that the children will be in far greater danger in the current situation," Albus protested.

"I again ask," Cornelius responded, "Why do you think doing anything is within my power? Centuries of tradition holds that Hogwarts is to be held separate from the Ministry of Magic. You yourself have written several laws cementing that separation in place. I cannot just swoop in and make drastic changes, and the school would have to be in near rebellion against the ministry before I were permitted to do so. You know this, Albus."

Dumbledore did indeed know this. He was grasping at straws hoping the ministry could help, but with the backing of the board of governors, he was powerless to remove Lucius Malfoy on his own using legal methods.

"There must be some influence you have with the board," Dumbledore pressed. Cornelius sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

"This is not a good time for this," the minister said. "With Sirius Black on the loose, the debacle of his lack of a trial, and the shackles that puts on our ability to catch him, the entire situation is a disaster waiting to happen. We really don't need another situation distracting us at the same time." The minister suddenly sat up.

"There is one thing I can use," he said. "There's a piece of legislation being debated that is of great interest to many members of the board."

"The Muggle Protection Act," Dumbledore said, realizing the ministers plan.

"Yes," Cornelius said. "Discussion was tabled in the last session, but that was just a delaying tactic. It will come around again next month, and they know it. If you could convince Arthur to shelve it, I think I can convince the board that it is not an appropriate time to begin any major renovations to our educational standards."

Albus sat back. Convincing Arthur would not be difficult, and he was well aware that you had to give in order to receive in politics. This was an important bill, however, and shelving it meant it might never be reintroduced.

"I don't like this," Albus said with a sigh. "Current safety must take precedence, but I feel the greater harm is in cementing this notion that we are better than the muggles."

"It was only a steppingstone bill," Cornelius argued.

"It was a beginning," countered Albus. "A beginning to a better future for us all."

"Yes, well," Cornelius said, in a placating tone, "a beginning not begun may still be started later. If you wish for any hope of being reinstated, I must be able to present the board with something."

"Very well," Albus agreed with a heavy heart.

"Splendid," Cornelius beamed. "I'll meet with a few of the more prominent members of the board this weekend, and hopefully have you reinstated as soon as possible."

Albus said his goodbyes and departed for the Burrow. He would have to break the news to Arthur. He hoped he hadn't given up too much, but the safety of his students was far too important to let Lucius Malfoy have authority over them for any length of time.


	22. Chapter 22

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Professor Snape led Lucius Malfoy to his quarters in the dungeons in silence. Once inside, he cast several privacy and silencing charms at the door and in the room. He offered Lucius tea, but Lucius declined. Severus had a complicated relationship with the Malfoy family. Due to their allegiance to the Dark Lord, Severus was considered a family friend. Lucius wasn't so foolish, though, as to ever accept anything to eat or drink from the potions master.

"I would offer my congratulations," Severus said in his smoothest tone, "except I find myself baffled by your actions."

"Be careful, old friend," Lucius said, toying the the metal snake head that adorned the wand hidden in his walking stick. "I act on behalf of one far greater than either of us."

"The Dark Lord?" Severus asked. He did not seem surprised, but Lucius would have been surprised if he had. Severus had survived many trials in his life, and was a living example of the word 'unflappable.'

"Indeed," Lucius confirmed.

"He has made contact with you?" Severus asked.

"In a way," Lucius answered.

"How?" asked Severus.

"Forgive me," Lucius said, "if I choose not to share the details with one so close to Albus Dumbledore. Already the insufferable muggle lover is aware that I am involved, though I am reliably informed he remains unaware of the details. I have plugged that leak, but I am too close to my goal to jeopardize the plan now."

"You have a plan?" Severus asked, a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone. "Two outsiders who should never have been allowed here and one Muggleborn have been petrified. It hardly seems a fitting fanfare for our Dark Lord's glorious return."

"I admit I expected more progress by this time," Lucius said, "but I still have faith in our Lord." He eyed Severus with obvious speculation.

"I have all the faith in the world in _him_ ," Severus retorted. "In you, though? I think not."

"Just stay out of the way," Lucius warned. "The plan will endanger no Purebloods. The Muggleborn, however, will finally pay the price for intruding on our world."

"This creature you have unleashed has already placed Purebloods at risk, including your own son," Severus accused. "How much are you willing to sacrifice, Lucius?"

"Draco?" Lucius asked, taken aback. "I am not aware of any such incident."

"Has your heir not informed you?" Severus sneered. "It chased him from the second floor corridor all the way back to the dungeons."

"Surely Draco was only exaggerating," Lucius suggested. His voice was slightly shaky, though, betraying his uncertainty. "You of all people should be aware of how young boys will try to make a mountain out of a niffler-hole."

"I was with him at the time," Severus said. "I assure you, young Draco was not exaggerating. If anything, he was outright taciturn on the subject."

"And you did not inform me?" Lucius asked.

"My apologies," Severus responded. "I was somewhat busy at the time and thought the Headmaster would do so."

"It's too late, anyway," Lucius said in an almost whisper. "Nothing can stop it now."

"Especially now that Dumbledore is gone," Severus added. Lucius turned and left, not saying anything else.

* * *

Sirius Black entered Hogsmeade. Since someone had let the big black dog out of the bag, his usual disguise wasn't going to work. He had to be pretty inventive, as the aurors were clearly on patrol, but he was pretty sneaky when he put his mind to it. He was in a similar disguise that had worked well enough in Diagon Alley, but since the aurors knew he was close he changed his face even more. He didn't dare go into any shops, but it worked long enough to grab a paper and return to his hideout.

The attacks at Hogwarts dominated the news, and Sirius was shocked that Dumbledore had been suspended. The newspaper didn't hold a particularly positive opinion of Lucius Malfoy being appointed to something called the High Inquisitor, either. The editorial section alone was particularly lively, calling for Dumbledore to be reinstated immediately.

He also saw the notice detailing his lack of a trial. That explained the lackluster hunt for him. He was sorely tempted to just pop in on Amelia Bones at her home. They had been in the same year at Hogwarts. She was a Hufflepuff, though, so the mingling opportunities were limited. They had been on that one date, though. Perhaps he should send her a note. He remembered how he'd gotten her to agree to that date. He grinned as he took out a quill, ink, and parchment.

Lily had been a fan of some author he couldn't remember the name of. Jane something or other. Her books were filled with a lot of old fashioned romantic writing that Lily loved. Amelia and Lily were friends, and shared a mutual love of those books. Sirius had pestered Lily till she had helped him pen a suitable letter, and Amelia had gone out with him. Just the once, of course, but they had fun. He thought he still remembered the style well enough. He hoped it might work again.

* * *

"He's so small," Hermione said. Tears were dripping down her cheeks as she stroked Dobby's hand. They were in a small room near the Hospital Wing. Harry and Hermione were kneeling next to the bed. Neville stood off to the side with Daphne, and Ron stood next to them, Dobby lay in a potions induced coma. His many injuries were mostly healed, and the limb caps on his stumps kept the blood from his cursed wounds circulating.

"He was always small," Ron said. Neville glared at Ron.

"A bit more tact, perhaps?" Neville suggested.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, flinching.

"How are we going to get Dobby away from the Malfoys?" Hermione asked. "If Lucius Malfoy can do this and get away with it, what can we do?"

"I don't know yet," Harry said. "We'll find a way, though."

* * *

The next Monday saw the Gryffindors in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Good morning, class!" Lockhart cheerfully yelled as he strode into the room.

"Good morning," the class responded.

"Now then," Professor Lockhart said, reaching the front of the classroom, "I know I said we'd be working on redcaps today, but we're going to put that on hold for a bit. Yesterday, I was informed of an opportunity for a bit of practice with a more dangerous situation than a redcap. It's a bit advanced for second year, but you all have been making amazing progress. Everyone take out your wands and follow me!"

He led the class out to the hallway and up a couple flights of stairs. They all piled into the teachers lounge, where a wardrobe stood next to the door. Lockhart approached it.

"Be warned," he told his class. "You will confront your greatest fears in this room. Know only that no harm will come to you while I am here." He gave the wardrobe a little pat and it shook, ominously.

"There's a boggart in here," he said. Half the class shuffled away from the wardrobe, while the other half looked around in confusion. "Who can tell me what a boggart is?" Lockhart asked. "Miss Granger?" he said, calling on Hermione. Along with half the class, she had raised her hand.

"A boggart is a shapeshifter," she said. "It is a non-being that inhabits dark places. When it encounters a person, it will take the form of that persons greatest fear."

"Excellent," Lockhart praised, "five points to Gryffindor. Can someone else tell me the spell to drive off a boggart?" Hermione raised her hand again, but this time was only joined by Harry, Neville, and Parvati Patil. "Miss Patil?"

"The _Riddikulus_ charm," Parvati answered.

"Wonderful!" Lockhart exclaimed. "Take another five points." Lockhart addressed the entire class.

"The _Riddikulus_ charm works by forcing the boggart into a humorous form," he explained "When you cast the spell, you must concentrate very hard on something funny. It sounds simple, but can be very tricky to do with your greatest fear right in front if you. Boggarts feed off of fear, so they will hide when we no longer fear them. As they are not, nor have ever been alive, they can never truly die, but they will diminish and become smaller if they go without feeding for too long. Form a line, and we'll see how you do. While you're waiting your turn, have a good think about what you fear the most. I'm betting many of you will be surprised that what you fear the most is something you don't even consciously think of."

The class formed a line with Parvati in the front. After asking if she was ready, Lockhart opened the wardrobe door.

A middle aged man walked out. He had an expression of disapproval on his face as he stared down at Parvati.

"We are very disappointed in you, Parvati," the boggart said in a heavy Indian accent. "Why can't you be more like your sister?"

"Don't listen to him," Lockhart encouraged her.

"Your mother and I are bringing you home," Boggart Patil continued. "We already have a successful daughter, it's a waste of money to send you both." Parvati pointed her wand at the boggart, but only let out a squeak of fear.

"The spell," Lockhart whispered to her. " _Riddikulus_ , use the spell."

"We have arranged a marriage for you with a very nice man," the boggart said, "very successful."

"Now, Parvati!" Lockhart urged. He had his own wand at the ready, prepared to rush forward if Parvati froze. She unstuck herself, however, and cast the spell at the boggart.

" _Riddikulus_!" she shouted. The boggart did not change form. It opened its mouth to continue berating the girl, but instead of words, it began to sing an Italian opera.

" _Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!_

_Tu pure, o, Principessa,_

_nella tua fredda stanza,_

_guardi le stelle_

_che tremano d'amore_

_e di speranza."_

The boggart appeared to be a good sport about it and had the decency to finish the verse before shrinking away from her. Lockhart praised her performance and ushered Harry forward.

Toma stood before him, in the pose he was frozen in. He was still petrified. His lightsaber was on, and the green blade hummed and lit the wall behind him with a emerald glow.

"You should have stopped it, Harry," the boggart said. "A true Jedi would have been able to stop it. You are losing control. You lack focus. You are destined for the Dark Side!"

" _Riddikulus_!" Harry cast, and a cork appeared in Toma's mouth. It muffled the Jedi Master's criticisms.

After Ron Weasley had faced a giant spider that he made slip on roller-skates, Seamus Finnegan faced a banshee. Seamus made the monster lose its voice, then made way for his best mate.

Almost the entire class shrieked with fear at the alien that Dean Thomas later described as a xenomorph. Many in the class were nearly as disturbed by the xenomorph with a clown face that he transformed it into. Dean found it funny, though, which was what counted.

Hermione stepped forward and saw an older version of Harry standing in front of her.

"I'm sorry," the boggart said. "I'm a Jedi. I belong up there. It would never have worked between us. Goodbye, Hermione." Everyone in Harry's vicinity gave him a sideways glance. It took several prompts by Lockhart before Hermione turned Boggart Harry into a short version of Harry with house-elf ears and a squeaky voice. As she made her way to the back, Harry went to her and gave her a hug.

Neville Longbottom was next, and found himself speechless before his grandmother. She was telling him she would no longer pay for his mother's care, and that he needed to be more like his father. Before he could come up with any way to turn that into something funny, the door to the staff room opened and Lucius Malfoy walked in. He passed by the boggart without seeing Madam Longbottom, and sneered at the students in the staff room.

"What are you all doing in here?" he asked, menacingly. With Lucius now between Neville and the boggart, it switched forms. The vulture topped hat morphed into a head full of black hair. Mrs. Longbottom's brown eyes took on a red shine. The old fashioned outfit turned into a simple dark grey robe. Where Mrs. Longbottom stood there was now a man. One could tell that he used to be quite handsome, but he had begun to be transformed by evil magic into something else. Something different. Something more. His long fingers toyed with a wand with a white bone handle.

"Lucius," the boggart hissed. Malfoy's eyes went wide when he heard the voice. He slowly turned towards the boggart.

"M... M..." he stammered

"You are such a disappointment, Lucius," the boggart said. "I have been waiting all of these years, and I find you living a life of luxury. You are squandering the opportunity I left you. You will fail. You will fail me, and then you will die."

"M... M... Master?" Lucius managed to say.

" _Riddikulus_!" shouted Lockhart. The boggart Voldemort sprouted cat ears and whiskers and meowed the rest of his lecture at Lucius.

Lucius spun to face Lockhart, releasing his wand from his walking stick.

"What do you think you're doing?" he spat at the defense professor.

"Teaching," Lockhart answered, readying a shield in case Lucius attacked. He placed himself between the High Inquisitor and the students . "I don't supposed you would terribly mind leaving, would you? I still have a lot of students waiting for their turn with the boggart."

Lucius stared around at the students who were staring back at him. He looked back at the boggart, straightened his robes and composed himself.

"Continue on, then," Lucius said to Lockhart, securing his wand back in his walking stick. "I will take my leave." He left the room, berating himself for such a weak exit. The image of his master had flustered him badly. He hadn't encountered a boggart since his own school days, and it had then taken the form of his father. He supposed with his father now confined to bed rest he was no longer so frightening as he used to be. As Lucius retreated down the hall, he heard Lockhart's voice trailing after him.

"Alright, Mr. Longbottom, are you ready to try again? Let's see if you can make her squawk like that bird on her hat."

* * *

Amelia Bones had just gotten home from a rather long day at the Ministry. The public was in an uproar over Dumbledore's suspension, and demanded to know what the Ministry of Magic was going to do about it. The howlers alone had been bad enough that the Department of Mysteries was being asked to come up with a special ward just to block them. She had just put her feet up when she heard a scratching at her window. She drew her wand and approached, only to find a large brown owl with a letter for her.

Scanning the letter for any curses, jinxes, or hexes took some time, and the owl seemed offended that she thought it would bring her anything harmful. It took off the moment the letter was removed, hooting at her reproachfully. She took no chances. She put on some dragon hide gloves, and retrieved her silver letter opener from her desk. Silver was magically inert, and wouldn't transfer any spells the letter might contain through it. Not that there weren't ways around that, but she was being careful to avoid everything she could. She opened the letter, cast more detection charms inside the envelope, and finally extracted a single piece of parchment.

_My dearest Amelia,_

_This piece of parchment, though I should cover it with affectionate words, could scarcely tell you truly how I long to receive your kind offer with an open heart. I offer my sincerest regrets that I must decline meeting with you at this time, as someone far dearer to me than myself requires my protection. Should the fates be kind, I shall attend to you when the strife of today is but a passing memory. Think kindly on me, and know that I remain most affectionately yours,_

_Sirius Black_

_P.S. I did not betray James, Lily, or Harry._

At the bottom of the page was a paw print. She needed no spells to be sure it was the Sirius Black that she remembered. It was corny, stupid, and barely made sense. She smiled. He hadn't changed at all.


	23. Chapter 23

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

"I am very sorry, Arthur," Albus apologized. He was sitting with Arthur and Molly Weasley at the Burrow's kitchen table.

"I understand," Mr. Weasley said. "I won't pretend I'm happy about it, though. I was hoping to get a vote on it next session. They could only delay it for so long. This was going to be the platform we could build on to secure equal rights for Muggleborn. This is a problem that won't just go away on its own."

"I know," Albus said. "I will do everything in my power to get it on the docket for next year."

"And another years worth of Muggleborn will learn the awful truth," Arthur said, dejected. "They will find there is little place for them in our world and try to return to their muggle lives. There, they will find they are years out of date and will risk exposing our world trying to blend in. I suppose it cannot be helped."

"No," Albus agreed. "I must admit I still find it hard to believe."

"I can show you the data again," Arthur offered.

"No, my friend," Albus said, waving Arthur's objections away. "I believed you three years ago when you first approached me, and I still believe you today. I am just flabbergasted that so many Muggleborn choose to leave our shores each year."

"Where else are they to go?" asked Arthur. Albus did not answer.

"Surely there's something that can be done," Molly protested.

"Cornelius was quite clear," Albus said. "He must have something to offer the board, and the Muggle Protection Act is the price we must pay. If it were just my suspension, I would let the matter lie. I have every confidence in Minerva to keep the school at least as safe as I could. I cannot... _will_ not allow Lucius Malfoy unrestricted access to the students."

"Even without the bill, though," Molly insisted, "there must be something we can offer the Muggleborn to convince them to stay."

"With so few jobs open to them," Arthur said, "it would be an empty offer. The only choices most of them have are to return to the muggle world, or leave Britain for a country more friendly to them. A few will marry into Pureblood or, more probably, Halfblood houses, but the rest are leaving."

"How many years do you think we have left?" Albus asked.

"Before the muggles notice us?" Arthur responded. "I'm absolutely shocked they haven't already."

* * *

The boggart class was easily one of the most discussed lessons anyone could remember. How the students handled it was largely dictated by house.

Gryffindors tended to face their fears singly and head on. They did not seem to care who knew what their fear was, and worked hard to overcome them.

Hufflepuffs were more about working together as a group to comfort and support each other. They yelled suggestions to each other as to how to make things funny, and thus they all did very well collectively.

Ravenclaws were all about the analysis. They held endless discussions about why this person had that fear, usually while still standing in front of an increasingly confused and frustrated boggart.

Slytherins, to a man, refused to participate until Lockhart agreed to allow them to each face the boggart in private. When he protested that he had to be present for safety, they turned to their Head of House.

"Perhaps," Severus said, "I should supervise the Slytherin students." His students had rightly appealed Lockhart's decision to air their greatest fears to the school at large.

"Absolutely not," Lockhart protested. "I am setting the grade for this assignment, and there is no reason I should not be present to witness it. I cannot grade a performance I have not seen, after all."

"I should think you were quite capable at that task," Severus said, smoothly. Lockhart gave him a dirty look.

"I think I have more than proven my abilities as a teacher," Lockhart said, shortly. "I will witness their performance, or they will not receive a passing grade on this assignment. Surely you would not pass a potions student if you did not witness them brew, or at least see the results of their efforts." Severus had to admit Lockhart made a good point.

"Nonetheless," Severus said, "it cannot be argued that Slytherin receives the students with the most to fear. Many of those fears are... personal."

"I have already agreed that they would face the boggart privately," Lockhart said. "It will just be me, the student, and whatever they fear most."

"I would suspect for some of them being alone in a room with you would be what they fear most," Severus said.

"I beg your pardon?" Lockhart said, offended.

"Surely you know from your time here as a student," Severus explained, "that the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor has always stood on a distrusted platform."

"That curse was broken," Lockhart said. "The Headmaster himself has said so."

"Even so," Severus said, "history tells us that if something goes wrong, it's likely the defense professor behind it. What is the muggle saying? I think the butler did it?"

"I fancy I know a lot more about muggle literature than you do, my friend," Lockhart said, "and your analogy is poor. I will not defer my position to you."

"Very well," Severus said. "A compromise, then? I will join you. This will ensure my students are adequately protected, as well as allowing you to see for yourself they they performed to your... standards."

With the compromise in place, the class was allowed to continue. Professor Lockhart would supervise the class, and Professor Snape would supervise Lockhart. Lockhart had to swear to keep the private fears of the Slytherin students in confidence, but it would be his evaluation that determined the grade. Some of the older Slytherins earned detentions from Lockhart by trying to hold out for an Unbreakable Vow. In the end, it took five times longer than any of the other houses to get through all the Slytherins, but the exercise was finally completed.

* * *

Professor McGonagall was sitting at Dumbledore's desk, handling the parchmentwork that was now her responsibility. Her position as Headmistress was not being made easier by their new High Inquisitor. After reviewing how he wanted the students split up, she had held an emergency meeting of all of the heads of houses. She knew that many of the Slytherins already practiced the separations as a matter of course, but she asked all of the heads to not enforce the rules to the greatest extent possible.

A knock came at the door. At first, she welcomed the break a visitor would provide, then she saw Lucius Malfoy enter the room.

"Professor McGonagall," Lucius said.

"Mr. Malfoy," Minerva responded.

"High Inquisitor Malfoy, in fact," Lucius corrected.

"Yes," Minerva responded, "it is quite the mouthful, isn't it? If we're observing the formalities, though, I believe you should address me as Headmistress."

"I wish to know why your students are not wearing the patches I provided," Malfoy demanded. "They are also refusing to separate into their groups."

"Because I told them not to, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall answered. "Once again, I will remind you to remain within your assigned role. Not only are your 'groups' disruptive to the students education, but they fail to even achieve what you claim to intend them for."

"Separating the students will limit the casualties in the event of another attack," Mr. Malfoy said.

"Perhaps," McGonagall responded. "Please explain, then, why you attempted to separate them by blood status."

"I'm sure it is only a coincidence," Malfoy said, smoothly.

"Quite a large coincidence, I should think," McGonagall said, dryly. "In fact, if you ignore the year groups, Slytherin has only two groups. Six Halfbloods in one and the rest of the house in the Pureblood group. The rest of the houses were to be split into three groups, and without exception would be separated by blood status. I was under the impression that you valued subtlety." Malfoy's lips twitched at the barb.

"I will not allow this," McGonagall continued, "and I will not allow the students to wear these degrading patches." She gestured to a stack of patches on her desk in the form of a golden star, a white half crescent, and a blue circle.

"I see," Lucius said. He abruptly changed the subject. "I will be setting curfew to an hour earlier each night. Surely you can have no objection to that?"

"No," McGonagall said. "That would actually be sensible under the circumstances." She picked up a sealed piece of parchment and handed it to Lucius. "By the way, this arrived for you." He took it and opened it. He frowned as he took in the words.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked.

"I have not read it," McGonagall responded, "so I do not know for certain. From the address and the seal I would imagine you are being summoned to the Board of Governors."

"I know that," hissed Malfoy, "for what reason?"

"I haven't the foggiest," McGonagall answered. "I'm not on the Board of Governors. If that will be all?"

Malfoy glared at her before turning and leaving. McGonagall smiled.

* * *

Ginny Weasley sat on her bed, weeping. She did that a lot these days. After her aborted attempt to give the diary to Dumbledore, the diary was livid. Percy was still trying to get her to give it to him, even knowing he would be expelled by Mr. Malfoy if he succeeded. He searched her, but found nothing.

It took a long time for the twins to see past their pranks and realize something was going on, but now they were intervening as well. She'd been deflecting the twins since she was five, though.

The diary was furious she'd tried to give it to Dumbledore. It still had tricks to play, though. It disappeared. Now, it only reappeared to her when she was alone. When she went down to meals or classes, it was nowhere to be found. When she closed the curtains to her four poster bed, it appeared on her pillow. She was compelled to write in it. She threw away all her ink and quills only to find new ones appearing in her hands to replace them.

She cursed Tom in scribbled words, writing things that would have shocked her mother senseless had she read them. The diary just laughed cruelly and taunted her. She threw it in her trunk, knowing full well it wouldn't stay there and ran downstairs. Ron was sitting by the fire and saw her. He noticed the tears streaks running down her cheeks and grabbed her by the wrist.

"Come on, Ginny," he said, pulling her to the portrait hole.

"Ouch, Ron!" she cried, trying to squirm out of his grip. "Where are you taking me?"

"I've had enough of this," he said, firmly. "I'm taking you to Madam Pomfrey."

"I don't need to see Madam Pomfrey," Ginny protested. "I'm not sick."

"Something's wrong with you," Ron said, bluntly. I may not know what it is, but if Madam Pomfrey can help, then that's where you're going."

Ginny finally managed to get Ron to let go of her by promising to go the hospital wing with him without fighting. They narrowly avoided Mr. Malfoy, who was striding through the halls looking upset.

* * *

Ginny lay on one of the hospital beds, waiting. Ron had taken Madam Pomfrey aside and was explaining his concerns regarding her mood swings and the diary. Pomfrey then examined Ginny. Her diagnostics showed that Ginny was exhausted, but not otherwise ill. Madam Pomfrey decided that Ginny would have to spend the rest of the day in the hospital wing getting rest. She arranged a curtain to give her privacy and offered Ginny a sleeping draught. Ginny only took a sip before she fell asleep.

* * *

Pansy Parkinson was sitting next to Draco in the library. To all outward appearances, they were studying potions. They were, but they were also having a conversation they would not have dared to have in their common room.

"Do you know why he's here?" Pansy whispered. Draco looked around to make sure nobody could overhear them. Potter, Longbottom, and Granger were a few tables away, but they all looked focused on their own work.

"No," Draco answered. "I went and saw him the morning he arrived, he didn't tell me anything."

"Nothing?" Pansy asked.

"He just asked me what my class standing is," Draco said. "He was disappointed I only moved up eight places from last year."

"Father said he came to see him last week," Pansy said. "Do you think they might have discussed a betrothal?"

"I'd be the last to know," Draco said. "He probably wouldn't tell me till the morning of the wedding."

"I hope he was," Pansy whispered.

"Me too," Draco replied. They glanced at each other, then Draco started getting his belongings in order.

"I'm going to the Quidditch match," Draco said. "Are you coming?"

"Not this time," Pansy said. "I think I'd like to write Father a letter."

* * *

"Are you going to the Quidditch match?" Neville asked, keeping his voice down. He was sitting with Harry and Hermione at a table in the library. He and Harry had just finished writing their Herbology essays while Hermione worked on a Potions paper.

"I'm going to go to the hospital wing later to visit Toma, Tank and Dobby," Harry said, "but I don't have any other plans."

"I wasn't going to," Hermione answered. "I'd really like to finish this today. You two should go ahead and go, though."

"Are you sure?" Harry said, frowning. He wasn't sure why, but he had an uneasy feeling about leaving Hermione alone.

"I don't know, either" Neville said, uncertainly. He was eyeing Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, who were sitting a few tables away, scribbling on parchment while they referenced some books on ingredient interactions. "We're not supposed to be alone."

"I'll be fine," Hermione said, reassuringly. "There's always a few fifth and seventh year students in here, as well as Madam Pince."

"You're sure you don't mind?" Neville asked.

"Completely sure," Hermione insisted.

"Shhh!" Madam Pinch hissed at them.

"Seriously," Hermione whispered, "I would really like to concentrate on this. Have fun at Quidditch, and tell me all about it tonight."

While they were talking, Neville saw Draco gathering his belongings. Draco left the library just ahead of Harry and Neville. He was also headed for the Quiddich pitch. It was a Gryffindor Slytherin match, and was going to be well attended.

* * *

Padfoot crept his way along the dark passageway. Getting into the Shrieking Shack was as simple as wriggling his way in through a broken window. It seemed that some of the older students had not been deterred by the old shack's reputation and had broken in. From the scattered butterbeer bottles and the blankets on the old couch, it looked like someone had made themselves an illicit love nest. It would likely be closed down due to his using it.

' _Just doing my civic duty,'_ he thought to himself with a snicker. ' _Can't leave love nests like that just hanging about anywhere. It wouldn't be decent_.'

The Daily Prophet he had snatched had very helpfully given him the date of the next quidditch match. This made today the best day to sneak into the castle. They never had Hogsmeade weekends on Quidditch days, and the game would also nearly empty the school.

He was most of the way to the castle, and had not yet felt the tingle of magic that would indicate the presence of a ward line. He had been down this path countless times as a student, but time and Azkaban had eroded his memory a bit. Finally, he felt what he was waiting for. A tingling that made his fur stand on end. He was in.

* * *

Ginny woke and found a wall clock to check the time. It was nearly noon. Ron was still sitting in the chair by her bed, fast asleep. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be found, but was probably in her office. Ginny couldn't see the two Jedi healers, but saw that they had erected privacy curtains. She looked on the bedside table for the glass of water Madam Pomfrey always left for any student.

There was no glass of water this time. In its place was the diary. She told herself to ignore it. She clasped her hands together to keep them from picking it up, but it was no use. She picked up the diary and opened it. It never mattered what page she opened it to. It was always blank. Always ready for her words. Always ready to spit words back at her.

" _Hello, Ginny_ ," Tom wrote. A quill appeared between the pages. It was already inked, as usual.

" _Go away,_ " Ginny wrote, beginning to cry as quietly as she could.

" _You know I won't,_ " Tom wrote. " _You will come to me."_

" _Leave me alone,_ " Ginny wrote. The fiery language of her cursed protestations had been reduced to simple pleading.

" _My patience with you has run out,"_ Tom wrote. " _This is your last chance. Come to me now. No one is looking, and your idiot brother is asleep. Come to me!_ "

" _Leave me alone_ ," Ginny wrote, a tear drop landing on the page. Just like the ink, It was absorbed into the paper. No trace of it was left behind.

" _Come to me now or I will send her to retrieve you!_ " Tom demanded.

" _Leave me alone,_ " Ginny wrote.

" _As you wish_ ," Tom wrote. The ink of their words disappeared. The diary disappeared with it. Ginny began to scream.


	24. Chapter 24

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that_

* * *

"Wood saves another attempt by Slytherin to score," Lee Jordon announced, "and the quaffle is back in the hands of Katie Bell. Bell passes to Spinnet, back to Bell, over to Johnson... No! Slytherin beater Lucian Bole knocks the quaffle out of Johnson's grip. It's picked up by Graham Montague, he passes it to Flint, to Pucey, Pucey dives to avoid a bludger sent his way by one of the Weasleys, he pulls up and throws... Arrg! Slytherin scores! That ties the game, sixty to sixty."

The Gryffindors groaned while the Slytherins screamed their approval. The Quidditch game had been going on for several hours. The two teams were well matched, and the score had stayed close for the entire game.

"Alicia Spinnet takes the quaffle," Lee continued, "Flint dives at her and she dodges, Derrick fires a bludger and it's blocked by the Gryffindor beaters, Spinnet shoots... she scores, Gryffindor regains the lead, seventy to sixty!" Lee clicked a lever which added ten points to the Gryffindor tally on the scoreboard.

"Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint takes the quaffle" Lee called. "Katie Bell tries to steal it.. That's a foul!" Lee's yell of outrage coincided with Madam Hooch's whistle.

"Slytherin is penalized for cobbing," Lee announced. "Katie Bell takes the penalty shot... she scores! Eighty sixty to Gryffindor! Mike Bletchly takes the quaffle for Slytherin, he dodges around Johnson... Wait a moment! Higgs and McLaggen are diving! One of them has seen the snitch! Higgs is in front! He reaches out and... Foul!" Madam Hooch blew her whistle again. "Cormac McLaggen is penalized for blatching. Slytherin gets a penalty shot, but the snitch has escaped." The Slytherins booed and hissed, while the Gryffindors cheered McLaggen on.

"Pucey takes the penalty shot for Slytherin," announced Lee. "He throws and... it's blocked by Oliver Wood! Wood throws it to Johnson, Johnson to... Wait, what's that?"

A loud, deep ringing from a bell began tolling. Madam Hooch blew her whistle to stop the gameplay. Headmistress McGonagall rushed to Lee Jordan and took his place at the megaphone.

"All students are to remain here at the Quidditch pitch," she announced. "Heads of houses will accompany me to the castle, all other staff is to remain with the student body. This match is halted, and will likely be canceled."

After exchanging some words with Oliver Wood regarding whether the Headmistress was actually allowed to cancel Quidditch, she joined Professors Flitwick, Snape and Sprout at the bottom of the announcer box. Professor Lockhart joined them.

"I'll join you, if you don't mind," Lockhart said.

"You are not a head of house," Snape objected.

"But I am the Defense professor," countered Lockhart.

McGonagall considered it. While she was usually distrustful of any Defense professor due to the jinx on the position, she had gained a large measure of respect for him over the course of the school year."

"Yes," she decided. "I would appreciate your help, Professor Lockhart."

Professor Snape snorted in disgust, but didn't otherwise object. The five of them hurried to the castle, where the bell was still ringing its alarm.

* * *

Harry and Neville shared a worried glance. Lavender Brown was standing behind them

"Where's Hermione?" Lavender asked.

"Still in the castle," Harry said, softly. "We shouldn't have left her." The uneasy feeling he'd had since he and Neville had left the castle had exploded into a sense of extreme worry. He was berating himself for ignoring his feelings. The prefects were taking a headcount and asking which students were known to still be in the school. Percy approached Harry.

"Have you seen Ron or Ginny?" he asked.

"I saw Ron in the Common Room before breakfast," Harry answered. "He said he was going to wait for Ginny. I haven't seen her all day."

"Same here," agreed Neville.

"It's not like Ron to miss a quidditch match," Percy said with a frown.

"I hope everything is ok," Neville said, plaintively.

"What about Miss Granger?"

"She was in the library," Harry answered.

After Percy left to complete his headcount, Harry took out his communicator. He tried to get ahold of the troopers, but he received nothing but static.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was met by Theodore Nott Sr. as he exited the floo at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Nott," Lucius said, acknowledging the older man as he brushed soot off of his robes.

"Malfoy," Nott replied. "We're due in twenty minutes. Let's walk there."

"As you wish," Malfoy agreed. Once they entered Diagon Alley, Malfoy cast a _Muffliato_ on them.

"Why has the Board called a meeting?" asked Malfoy.

"The Board is removing you from the High Inquisitor position and reinstating Dumbledore as Headmaster," Nott answered, bluntly. Malfoy stopped in shock for a moment, they rushed to catch up with Nott, who had not stopped.

"May I ask why?" he asked, coldly.

"Circumstances have changed," Nott said.

"I have only just arrived there," Malloy protested. "I still have things to do."

"Not anymore," Nott said, not looking at Malfoy. Lucius grabbed Nott's arm and pulled him into an empty alcove.

"Tell me what has changed," Malfoy insisted.

"Dumbledore is giving up the Muggle Protection Act," Nott said. "Removing you and putting him back in place was his price. We're paying it."

"This is more important than the Mudblood fantasies of a blood-traitor," Malloy hissed. "I can bring back our Lord!"

"You-Know-Who is dead," Nott said. "Harry Potter killed him."

"Whatever happened," Lucius said, "I doubt it was the infant. Regardless, I have the means to bring him back "

"Why would you want to?" Nott asked.

"What?" Lucius asked, staring at the other man in disbelief.

"I remember very well what it was like when You-Know -Who was in charge," Nott said. "I joined him because he said he'd rid our world of Muggleborn and muggle influences. We were supposed to have power. Riches. What actually happened? We poured our family fortunes into his coffers and licked his boots. We were tortured for failing. Hell, we were tortured for succeeding when we weren't told to. How many galleons did you give him last time?"

"I gave him everything, and would gladly do so again," Lucius said.

"Precisely," Nott scoffed. "And you'll be poor again, crawling on your belly in the dirt to kiss his feet. Even taking back what we could when he died, it's taken us ten years to recover what we gave him. Now you want him back?"

"The money doesn't matter," insisted Malloy. "Once we rid the Mudbloods from our world, we will be rewarded beyond the dreams of Croesus."

"We're already ridding our world of them," Nott said, "and getting rich doing it, too. Do you have any idea how much Runcorn has made providing portkeys to Muggleborns and their families to get them out of Britain? He charges half what the ministry does and still makes a fortune. They go elsewhere and leave their money here."

"My plan is already in motion," Malfoy said, getting more worried about the Board ruining everything.

"Then I suppose you best hope it fails," Nott said. He turned and resumed walking to the meeting hall.

* * *

The students waited impatiently in the stands. The professors who remained patrolled through and around the children. After a tense half hour, Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Snape returned to the Quidditch pitch, escorting a few dozen students who hadn't been at the match.

Harry and Neville searched, but didn't see Hermione, Ron, or Ginny in the new group. Snape went to the Slytherin stands, whispered in Draco's ear, and guided him through the crowd. McGonagall climbed to the announcers box and activated the megaphone to address the students.

"May I have your attention, please?" she said. "There has been another attack. Hogwarts will be closing until further notice. We are making arrangements for you to be returned to your homes until this situation is resolved. You will not be returning to the castle, which is being evacuated now. The Hogwarts Express will arrive to pick you all up in a few hours. Please be patient and remain in the stands until you can be escorted to the station. Your belongings will be packed for you. If you are in fifth or seventh year and you have any questions about OWL or NEWT exam preparation or schedules, please owl them to myself or the ministry exam authority as soon as possible. Please trust that we will resolve this and reopen as quickly as and as safely as we can. Thank you."

Ignoring the explosion of questions and shocked faces, Harry and Neville made a beeline for McGonagall.

"Professor," Harry said, "where is Hermione?"

"I suppose you two should come with me," McGonagall said. "Stay close to me, though." She led the two Gryffindors out of the Quidditch stadium and towards the castle.

* * *

Harry and Neville followed Professor McGonagall through the castle. Finally, they entered the hospital wing. Harry froze at the sight before him. Their wands outstretched, Professors Flitwick and Lockhart were levitating Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson onto hospital beds. Both of them had nearly identical looks of horror frozen on their faces. Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy stood by Pansy's bed. Snape had one hand on Draco's shoulder, giving the young Slytherin whatever emotional support he could.

"Hermione," Harry whispered. He began to breathe heavier, his emotions out of control. It suddenly felt like a motor inside his head had broken loose and was spinning out of control. Faster and faster it filled his head with an angry buzz like a swarm of bees.

"They were found together," Professor McGonagall said, "outside the library entrance. Unfortunately, they were not the only ones attacked today." She gestured to a corner of the room.

Doc was petrified, standing with a first aid kit in her hand, looking towards the Hospital entrance with surprise etched on her face. Rev, however, had been more prepared. He had clearly used Doc's frozen body as a shield. He used the cover she provided to try and attack the intruder. He had paid for it with his life, though. He had a small laser pistol in his hand and an arrow sticking out of his forehead.

Harry's emotions were spiraling out of control. He jerked his head to his left and saw the still petrified figure of Master Toma. His hands still grasping his lightsaber, his Master was unable to guide him through the torment of fury that was flowing through him. He whipped his head to his right to see Madame Pomfrey standing near a hospital bed. She, too, was petrified. Her hands were raised in a defensive pose. It was clear she had tried to shield her patient at her own expense.

Ronald Weasley was also frozen. He was poised sitting on the floor, his posture indicating that he had been in a panic, scooting backward when he was attacked. Harry looked back to Hermione. He dropped to his knees, a scream ripping from his throat.

A shockwave erupted from the very center of his being. Every person in the Hospital Wing was knocked to the floor except for Professor Snape. The Potions Master had been approaching Harry, and caught the full force of the blast. Snape was thrown into the wall by the the power of the wave. His head slammed into the stone, knocking him unconscious. As Snape sank to the floor, every window on the third floor of the castle blew outward as the wave blasted out. The stone underneath Harry's knees cracked and a tremor began to shake the room.

Throughout the the castle several portraits fell off of the walls, their occupants scrambling to neighboring frames. In a seldom used girls bathroom on the second floor, a sink whose faucet had always been broken suddenly broke free of the column that it had clung to for over two hundred years. It fell out and forward only an inch, but it was enough to reveal the black emptiness of a passageway behind it.

"Mr. Potter!" cried professor McGonagall. The tremors ceased. Everyone in the Hospital Wing except for the injured potions master and the petrified victims scrambled to their feet. Potion bottles had shattered with the shockwave, and their contents were dripping down cabinets to the floor. Professor Lockhart was holding a handkerchief to a small cut on his forehead.

"This ends now," Harry snarled. Standing up, he turned and stalked out of the hospital wing. No one spoke or moved for a moment, staring after Harry in shock. Neville raced after him. Finally, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick rushed to Professor Snape's side.

Draco gave Pansy's hand a squeeze, kissed her frozen cheek, and ran out the door following Harry and Neville.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor Lockhart shouted as he ran after Draco. "Stop!"

Lockhart ran after Draco, who dashed down the main staircase. He ran into the second floor corridor. Suddenly, the young boy skidded to a halt. Reaching out, Lockhart grabbed him by his shoulder, then saw what had stopped Draco in his tracks.

Commander Dameron, still fully ensconced in his battle armor, stood still as a statue, pointing his rifle down the hallway. Two of the troopers lay on the floor, either unconscious or dead. Broken arrows lay on the ground next to them. Ice was also petrified. Her helmet was off and next to her on the floor. She was on one knee by one of the prone men, her face uncharacteristically frozen in an expression of fear.

It wasn't the downed troopers that had halted Malfoy, though. Propped against a wall was a woman, clutching a small bow. At first, Draco thought something had fallen on her, since he could only see her from the waist up. She wore no clothes, with her only conceit to modesty being a leather strap fastened around her chest. It was not quite adequate to cover her breasts. A quiver of arrows was attached to the back of the harness. Just below the strap, a smoking hole gutted her abdomen. She had obviously been shot by one of the troopers.

The woman's hair was braided into thick, dark green ropes. It was only after seeing several of the braids twitch that Draco realized her hair was actually composed of once living snakes. The woman was dead, though, and the snakes were dying with her.

She wasn't only a woman, however. Draco saw his initial impression of a woman with something fallen on top of her legs was wrong. Just below her navel, the texture of her skin mottled and blended into green scales. She had the appearance of a woman from the waist up, but from the waist down she was a snake. Where her legs should have been was the long, tapering body of a serpent.

"A Gorgon!" exclaimed Professor Lockhart.

"More than one," Draco said, softly. Lockhart looked to where Draco was pointing and saw another of the half-woman/half-snake creatures lying facedown on the floor.

They saw movement at the end of the corridor, and observed Harry, Neville, and two of the remaining troopers entering a girls bathroom. Shaking off Lockhart's hand, Malfoy ran to join them.

"Blast it!" Lockhart protested, "Just stop, will you?" He rushed after the boy into the bathroom and found Harry and the troopers examining the damaged sink.

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" Lockhart demanded. "I insist that the three of you return to the hospital wing at once!" The boys ignored him.

"Report," Harry ordered, addressing the troopers. The sergeant for Red Team took his helmet off and addressed Harry.

"Red team was standing watch, per orders, sir." Red Sarge reported. "The Commander was with us. Everything was going fine when four of those things came slithering out of this room. There was no warning. Commander Dameron ordered them to halt. One of them… shrieked at him. I don't know how it did it, but the Commander was frozen. The rest of us opened fire. Whatever those things are, they're fast. We took two of them out, but they got Red 2 and 4 first. The other two hostiles fled out to the staircase."

"That's probably when they attacked Pansy and Granger," Draco interjected. "They'd pass right by the library on their way to the Hospital Wing."

"During the engagement," Red Sarge continued, "we sent out an alert to the squad, but the firefight only lasted a few seconds."

"The Quidditch stadium," Harry said. "There's something about it that interferes with my com. I never got the alert."

"Red 3 started first aid on the casualties," Red Sarge said, "but about two or three minutes later the hostiles returned. They'd taken a student and one of the hostiles was dragging her behind it by her hair. Poor girl was screaming the whole way."

"Description of the student?" Harry asked.

"It was the girl with the red hair and the book you've been worrying about," Red Sarge answered.

"Ginny," Harry said, then nodded for the trooper to continue.

"The hostiles froze Ice before she could even stand," Red Sarge said, "but I think that was just because Ice was in the way. Red 5 and I weren't directly in their path, and they did not engage us. We couldn't fire on them without endangering the hostage, though, and the hostiles took the girl in here. We followed, just in time to see the sink here seal up. Blue team arrived about then. We were trying to get through the wall when the entire room shook like there was an earthquake. The sink broke off the wall. You showed up only a minute or two after that, sir."

Harry turned from Red Sarge and examined the sink.

"Mr. Potter," Lockhart said, "now that we know where the entrance is, I must insist you leave this to the staff. I want you, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Longbottom to get back to the Hospital Wing at once."

"What are your orders, sir?" Red Sarge asked.

"Do not ignore me!" Lockhart protested.

Harry glared at the sink for a few seconds, then reached his hand out. He made a fist, then yanked it back to his body. The sink tore itself off the wall and clattered to the floor at Lockhart's feet. Harry peered down the black hole the sink had been covering.

"Red team, get your casualties to the hospital wing. Rev, Doc and Madam Pomfrey are all down, so do the best you can. Coordinate with Professor Sprout on how to get this Mandrake draught from somewhere else. I don't care if its legal or not. Find out where to get it, take the transport, and retrieve it. Blue team, you're with me. Save the girl," he answered, "kill the beasts." Without another word, Harry stepped forward and dropped into the hole. Neville, intent on following Harry anywhere, immediately jumped after him.

The remnants of Red Team left the bathroom to follow Harry's orders. One after another, Blue team dropped in after Harry and Neville. Draco dashed forward and jumped in to follow.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Lockhart huffed as he walked to the hole and squinted down into the depths. "Gryffindors!" he yelled down the hole. "The lot of you!"

"Am not!" Draco Malfoy's voice drifted back up to him.

"Am not," Lockhart muttered in a childish, mocking tone. "You're bloody well acting like it!" he shouted back. He waved his wand, and conjured a length of rope. Two wand swishes later, one end of the rope tied itself in a loop, while the other end tied off to a broken pipe jutting over the entrance. Fitting his foot into the loop, Lockhart grabbed hold of the rope and tapped it with his wand.

Gilderoy Lockhart stood straight and dignified as the rope magically lengthened, lowering him into the darkness below. "There's a proper way of doing these things, after all," he said to himself.


	25. Chapter 25

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Padfoot crept down empty hallways. Only once did he have to hide in a broom closet as Professor Snape rushed by. He made a mental note to send a thank you card to whomever had injured the overgrown bat. Snape was kind enough to inform Sirius how to address it as he ranted about ' _that insufferable brat Potter'_ as Professor Flitwick tried to cast healing charms at him. The rest of the school seemed abandoned.

He had heard the alarm bell ringing. It started near enough to the time he had entered the wards to concern him that they were for him. He had only heard them sounded once before, when he was in school. There was a rumor that Voldemort was going to attack the school, and someone got a bit antsy on sounding the alarm. To have them sound for him was disconcerting. He waited in the closet till he was sure Snivelus was gone. He needed to get back to the main floor.

* * *

Lockhart landed at the bottom of the entrance. The hole curved into a tunnel as it went down, so while his rope controlled his descent, he still ended up getting his robes dirty. The troopers and the boys, having gone down at a far more reckless pace, had moved forward already. He rushed to catch up, casting a lumos ahead of him to keep him from tripping over the numerous skeletons of small animals that littered the floor.

"Thanks for waiting," he said, sarcastically. Harry glanced at him, but kept moving forward.

"We're not going back," Harry said, resolutely. "Not without Ginny, and not without killing whatever that thing was that took her."

"I wouldn't fancy going back the way we came in, anyway," Draco said.

"No," Lockhart agreed. "I only conjured the one rope, and it won't last long enough to get us all back up, even if we turned back now."

"We'll just have to get out the way they do," Draco said.

"What do you mean?" Lockhart asked.

"I'm pretty sure whatever those things are need to eat," Draco answered. "I doubt they get everything they need in here, and someone would have noticed if they were popping up to nick food every day. This must open up in the Forest somewhere."

"They're called Gorgans," Lockhart said.

"That's what you said up there," Draco said. "What are Gorgans?"

"Have you ever heard of a chimera?" Lockhart asked.

"No," Neville answered.

"You haven't covered them in any of your classes," Draco said, almost accusingly.

"Not in second year, certainly," countered Lockhart. "They're not typically studied till NEWTs. They are creatures or beings that wizards have created using existing creatures or beings. They are named after the beast called a Chimera, which is a three headed monstrosity with lion, snake, and goat heads. Definitely a five-x creature. In fact, almost all true chimeras are, like the manticore. Most of them are incredibly dangerous, even the ones that aren't actively hostile against humans."

"Which ones aren't?" Draco asked.

"Centaurs and Merpeople," Lockhart answered, "to name two. That doesn't mean they like us, mind you. In fact, that is the main point of contention between wizards and both of those races. The Centaurs especially deny having ever been created by humans. If you ever meet them, I highly advise you to never bring it up."

"So," Harry said, showing interest in the conversation for the first time, "these Gorgons are chimera. How does that work?"

"I wouldn't know," Lockhart said. "Obviously you take two or more host bodies and use magic to merge them. In the Gorgans case it was obviously a woman and a snake. Done wrong, you either get nothing or you get a one off monster. Done right, you've created a new self replicating species. Even trying to make one has been illegal since the 1500's. It seems that some animals, like lions and snakes, are very adaptable, thus heavily used in the process."

"What more do you know about Gorgans?" Harry asked.

"I don't know much," Lockhart admitted. "They used to be used in ancient Greece as guardians for tombs. The muggles have a legend of one named Medusa. No one knows enough about them to know if that story would be helpful in dealing with them or not. They were supposed to be insanely protective and territorial. They had the power to turn anyone they looked at into stone, but according to legend, it only worked if you made direct eye contact. Their hair was composed of living snakes. Unfortunately, that's all that I really know about them."

"I've never even heard of them," Longbottom said. "How rare are they?"

"Until now, they were thought to be extinct," Lockhart said. "They thought so even in the founders days. Obviously Salazar Slytherin found some regardless and stuck them down here."

"How could they live all this time," Neville asked. "Are they immortal?"

"Nothing in the legends suggests so," Lockhart said, "but nothing says they weren't, either. The texts I've read suggested they were all female, but if any still exist they must be reproducing somehow."

"At least Professor Snape was right," Draco said with a smirk. "So much for the beast being a basilisk." He jerked to a halt as Professor Lockhart shot his arm across him to grab Harry and Neville by the arms. Harry started to protest, but noticed the look on Lockhart's face. He looked forward again, then blanched.

"So much for it _not_ being a basilisk," Lockhart said in dismay. In front of them was a huge length of empty snake skin.

* * *

As the troopers examined the skin, they all noticed a feeling of fear beginning to creep up on them.

"Oh, no," moaned Draco. "This is what I felt before."

"We can't go back," Harry insisted. "We must keep going."

"I'm not sure Longbottom can," Draco said. Harry was surprised that Draco said this without his customary sneer. Harry looked at Neville and saw him standing with his eyes closed, shivering.

"We have to keep moving, Neville," Harry said. Neville was trembling from head to foot, and tears of shame were streaming down his face.

"I can't!" he cried. "I'm sorry, but I just can't. It's a basilisk! Do you know what they do?" He sank to his knees and then collapsed into a sitting position.

Harry could feel the waves of terror the beast was throwing at them too, but his Jedi training allowed him to cope with it. The troopers were feeling the strain as well, but they had a lifetime of combat experience to help them cope.

As defensive mechanisms went, this creature had an amazing ability. The psychic ability to terrify its opponents before they even got near the thing would help ensure the creatures longevity. Harry was about to suggest that Neville head back to try and get help, but Lockhart kneeled down beside him and started talking to the boy.

"Do you want to know a secret?" he asked Neville. "I'm not really as brave as I act." Neville looked shocked.

"You mean all those rumors were true?" Neville asked, disappointment evident in his voice. "You really didn't do all those things in your books?"

"Mr. Longbottom," Lockhart admonished, "You should know not to listen to rumors." A bit of the boldness was back in his voice, but it quickly drained back out. "No, those rumors are not true, and I really did do all of those things in my books. They may not have played out quite as dramatically as I let on, but the core of each story is true. That's the secret of writing a bestseller, Neville. Dry, strictly true accounts of events do not sell."

Lockhart closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "No, my secret is far more shameful than making up stories for profit. Come on, I'll tell you as we walk. You can't tell secrets sitting down."

He pulled Neville to his feet and gently, but persistently guided him down the dark tunnel. The troopers took the lead again as the group continued down the tunnel. Lockhart really didn't want to lead these students onward, but there was no getting back up that tunnel. Not without leaving someone behind.

"I used to be married, did you know that?" Lockhart asked. "Sarah, my wife, was an amazing woman. She was a muggle. Knew nothing of magic, of course, but she was magical enough just as she was. She was one of those amazing people who could see the good in anyone. Even in me." Lockhart smiled as he remembered.

"I used to tell her stories," he continued. "I pretended that they were stories that I had made up, but they were actually true stories. They were tales of me and my brothers at Hogwarts, and of our experiences after school. Highly dramatized, of course, but that's how stories go. Because they were mostly real stories, though, I was able to embellish them with amazing details. Sarah would encourage me to write the stories down. She said I had a talent for it. She was right, of course, but then she was Sarah, she was always right."

They had gone far enough down the dark passageway that they were walking in almost total darkness. Only the dim light of Harry's Lumos charm allowed them to keep their feet.

"While I was writing, I felt more than just alive," said Lockhart. "The adventures I was describing transformed me into a hero! An endlessly brave, never say never, hero. But I never felt that way in real life. Oh no, not Gilderoy Lockhart! I trembled at the thought of climbing a tree, public speaking was enough to cause me to faint, and if I ever got into an argument I squeaked instead of roared.

Still, the books she had me write were quite good. They were published as muggle fantasy novels, of course. The publisher sold a lot of copies because they were the sort of tales that people love to read. Romance, adventure, mystery, all the good stuff that makes a great story. The stories that ended up in those books were dramatized to the point where they were no longer true, of course, but everyone loved them. They made a lot of money, and Sarah and I were living a very good life." The trio continued heading down the tunnel, which seemed to go on forever.

"One day," Lockhart continued, "we decided to go to London and having a shopping day. Just a romantic day on the town with my beloved. Two young men, scruffily dressed, walked up and asked for the time. As I was distracted by one of them, the other grabbed Sarah's purse and started yanking it off of her."

By this point, it wasn't clear if Lockhart was still aware the others were with him. He continued to forge into the tunnel as he talked, lost in his memory.

"I froze," Lockhart confessed. "The strap of her purse had tangled in her hair, and the thug apparently thought she was fighting him for it. He reached into his pocket and brought out a knife. With a wave of my wand I could have ended it!" he said, bitterly. "I could have turned his knife into a flower, or vanished it completely, but I didn't even have it on me." Lockhart's head hung in shame, but he continued to move them down the tunnel.

"While my wife bled out," he whispered, "I just sat on the sidewalk next to her and blubbered."

Harry and Neville, knowing there was nothing they could say that would alleviate the man's pain, just listened and walked.

"The thugs had run off, abandoning their prize. As my Sarah lay there, dying," Lockhart said, stammering a bit, "she took my hand in hers and held it close to her."

Lockhart stopped for a moment as he recalled his wife's last words to him. "Stay brave, she told me. Make your life extraordinary. You are the man I know you can be. Believe in yourself. I love you. And then she died."

He stood there for a moment longer, the took a deep breath and walked down the last few yards to a large, circular door. The door had a face etched into it. It was a horrible face, with rubies for eyes. The gems reflected every bit of light, and appeared to glow red from the lumos charm emitting from Harry's wand. Metal snakes protruded from the door, sealing it from being opened. They all stared at it, knowing that this was the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"I returned to the wizarding world," Lockhart finished, "and began to throw myself into adventures. Real adventures. I wrote books detailing them. True books, this time. I force myself to go places where I am too afraid to go, Neville. I force myself to do things that I am too afraid to do. I do it because I have a greater fear than any of the things I face. I'm afraid that if I don't do it, I won't live up to her vision of me. Someday, I will die. And I will be reunited with my Sarah. And when I see her, I know that I will be able to say, Yes, I did. I made my life extraordinary!"

Neville now stood tall and proud. He was still afraid, but he was now able to face it. Harry looked back at Lockhart, and they nodded to each other. Harry examined at the snakes that locked the seal, took out his lightsaber, and ignited it. With a series of short strokes, he had severed the snakes from the door. When the last of them had been destroyed, a long, metal snake wound its way through a track on the outer edge of the seal.

"Well, lads," Lockhart said, "We are about to throw our destinies against the foulest creature known to wizardkind. We will face our worst fears in this room. Let's see what we make of them!"

The snake finished running its course. There was a heavy groan and vibration, and the seal swung free. The Chamber of Secrets was open.


	26. Chapter 26

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

The group entered the Chamber together, and examined their surroundings. There were many stone columns supporting the ceiling. The stone surfaces were worn and cracked as if the atmosphere in the chamber were slightly acidic. The pillars were so large and numerous that they prevented one from seeing from one side of the chamber to the other. Depending on how large the chamber actually was, it would be easy to get lost in here.

"What are your names, gents?" Lockhart asked the troopers. "I don't want to be traipsing off on this adventure with strangers."

"I'm Sarge," Blue Sarge answered. "This is Shooter, Blaze, Trance, and Meilo."

"I suppose I can see Shooter, and perhaps even Trance or Blaze, but Meilo?" Lockhart asked.

"I like the Meiloorun fruit," Meilo responded.

"Very well," Lockhart said. "I suppose I've no room to talk. I still don't know what my mother was thinking. Gilderoy, I ask you?"

Water dripped from the ceiling to form small rivers on the floor. The group followed the water, trying to be as quiet as they could. If someone was in the chamber, they surely knew intruders had entered, but they didn't want to give away their positions if possible.

The feeling of panic was nearly overwhelming, and Neville kept having to stop for a moment and regain his courage. Finally, they exited the forest of stone columns and entered a circular clearing they guessed was in the very center of the chamber.

There was a short, circular plinth in the center of the clearing bordering a pool of water. It looked like this was where all the water dripping from the ceiling gathered. In the pool there was a large stone statue of a man's head. His face appeared stern and unforgiving. Lying on the plinth, scarcely breathing, was Ginny Weasley. She was not, however, alone.

A Gorgon was bent over the young girl. She was incredibly thin, and looked ancient. Her face was lined with cracks. She wore no clothing, and her wrinkled skin had a greenish grey tint. She was wet with a slimy mucus that coated her from head to tail. The light grey snakes that grew from her head in place of hair were clustered and tangled together. They hung down like long, thick, rope-like braids trailing down to her waist, mostly covering her breasts. She stared with eyes as black as coal at the intruders as they approached the low platform.

"Don't look her in the eyes," cautioned Lockhart.

Harry looked closer at the creature, avoiding her eyes. The snakes that grew out of her head were staring back at him.

"Hello!" called out Professor Lockhart. "I don't suppose you'd mind terribly backing away from the girl…" he started to say. He was abruptly cut off as the gorgan hissed at him, her features twisted in rage. The snakes in her head began to rear up and dance about. They hissed and bit at each other as they responded to the Gorgon's rising ire.

"Now, now," Lockhart called out, chidingly, "that's enough of that!"

"I think she's telling us to get out," Draco whispered.

"We will leave," said Professor Lockhart, in as calming a tone as he could manage, "once we've collected our little friend, there."

The Gorgon shrieked at the intruders. Her black eyes began to glow a sickly yellow, then flashed. Harry and Neville were looking at Ginny, but looked away in time to see Professor Lockhart throw his arm over his eyes. Draco tried to cover his face with his arm, but wasn't fast enough. In the blink of an eye, he was petrified. Blue Sarge and Blaze also weren't so lucky. They had been aiming at the Gorgon with their weapons and were frozen where they stood.

Shooter, Trance and Meilo had looked away in time. They now opened fire on the creature. The Gorgon hissed and advanced on them, dodging the blaster fire. Her hair snakes were completely awakened now, exposing the creature's breasts. They lay wasted and limp on the her chest, but leaked copious amounts of a milky white substance that coated her body from the chest down. The venom she secreted slimed her body and provided a lubricating effect, allowing her to slide over the stone floor at a surprising speed. She moved mostly like a snake, but supported her upper body with her immensely strong arms. She crawled towards them, scrabbling at the stone floor with clawed fingers while her lower body slithered behind her. She used her tail as a spring to leap left or right to avoid the blaster fire.

Lockhart had positioned himself so he was between the students and the Gorgon. Lockhart realized with horror that with all the dodging of the troopers fire, the Gorgon was now in position to attack the boys.

Neville had frozen again. The boy seemed to be particularly vulnerable to the psychic waves emanating from the creature. He had his eyes squeezed shut, and was unable to see the monster that had singled him out.

In a moment, the Gorgon was upon him. Neville let out a high pitched squeal as the monster hissed at him and bared her fanged teeth. Her claws tore at his flesh in a dozen places, and the punctures burned as the venom that was still squirting from her breasts leaked into the wounds.

Suddenly, the Gorgon was flung off of Neville. Professor Lockhart had grabbed the creature by the serpents growing from her head and yanked her off of the boy. The monster screamed in rage as she scrambled to turn and attack her assailant. Lockhart held on tightly as he dragged her away from the boys. His hand and arm were being bitten repeatedly by the snakes he was using to drag the Gorgon, but he kept up his effort. The skin of his arm was turning black, the venom burning in his veins. He threw the Gorgon down and pointed his wand at her face. " _Abacinare_!" he shouted.

The Gorgon shrieked in pain. She seemed to be crying tears of blood from the eyes Lockhart's spell had ruined. She squirmed away from Lockhart as fast as she could go, vanishing from sight in the maze of pillars. Lockhart dropped his wand, and fell over. Harry, who had been trying to help Neville, dashed over to the professor. Professor Lockhart was covered in blood from the snake bites he had endured. Tears spilled out of his eyes, and the skin of his face was swelling as his body reacted to the venom that was wreaking havoc with his body.

"Did I do it?" he asked Harry in a wheezing voice that was both filled with pain, but also with hope. "Did I make my end... extraordinary?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, his voice filled with guilt and pain. "You were truly amazing." Lockhart looked over Harry's shoulder as a golden flame flashed into existence. A large bird with red and gold feathers erupted from the flames, and landed on Harry's shoulder. Harry was feeling incredibly guilty over their casualties, but having Fawkes on his shoulder gave him a feeling of warm acceptance.

"Hello, Sarah," Lockhart said to Fawkes. "I'm so happy…. to see you... again." Fawkes trilled once, which brought a smile to Gilderoy Lockhart's face. He closed his eyes and stopped breathing.

* * *

Fawkes could sense there was nothing he could do for Lockhart. He could smell the venom in the man's blood, and it was far too much. Even if the phoenix had arrived sooner there were simply too many bites with too much venom to counteract. He could, however, do something about the injured boy lying nearby. The venom, while deadly, was only on the surface of Neville's wounds. It had not yet entered his bloodstream.

Fawkes flew down and landed on Neville's chest. Crying healing tears as fast as he could produce them, he coated the punctures with the pearly substance. Small wisps of vapor emerged where the tears and venom combined, and the deadly substance was neutralized. Fawkes started to sing, filling the air with a happy feeling that drove off the sense of fear that still permeated the Chamber.

"Thank you," Neville said to the bird, and reached his hand out to pet the magnificent creature. Fawkes's singing suddenly turned into a squawk as the head of an arrow erupted from Fawkes's feathered breast.

Fawkes fell off of Neville, who let out a scream of horror. The phoenix burst into flames. Whirling around, Harry saw a Gorgon approaching the plinth. At first he thought it was the same one Professor Lockhart had dealt with, but this one looked much younger and had a bow and quiver harness on. Her head snakes were dark green.

She notched another arrow from her quiver, and let it fly at Harry. With a snap-hum, his lightsaber sprang into life. The green plasma blade intercepted and vaporized the arrow.

Harry dashed forward to advance on the Gorgon. He had to dodge another arrow she sent his way, but he closed the distance quickly. She bared her fangs as she prepared to attack the Jedi at close range. Harry swung his lightsaber at the monster, expecting to slice her in two, but the Gorgon was faster than any foe he had yet faced.

She twisted her torso as she dodged the glowing green blade, her back lying nearly flat on the floor as it passed over her. Quick as lightning, she was back up and on the offensive. From a sheath attached to the quiver strap she drew a knife. Harry used the limited time he had to quickly retrieve his preferred lightsaber from his mokeskin pouch. Igniting it, he now wielded two blades.

Harry saw her eyes turn yellow and closed them in time to avoid her petrifying attack. She used the opportunity to throw her knife at Harry. Warned by the Force, he leapt into the air. Twisting his body over the flying blade, Harry landed and swung both lightsabers at the Gorgon. They appeared to be dancing as she twisted and twirled to avoid the blades of energy Harry was swinging.

She hissed in pain as the green blade nicked her shoulder. She produced a second knife from her quiver strap. Harry was now trying to both attack the Gorgon and defend himself from her. The creature lunged forward to strike at Harry's neck, but missed as he twirled away. She had overextended herself and left herself open to the Jedi's weapon. Again, Harry had to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid her paralyzing attack.

The Gorgon tried to dodge his counterattack, but was only able to avoid the emerald green lightsaber. The ruby red blade caught her neck and her head toppled off as the body collapsed at Harry's feet. Her head snakes writhed as they died.

Leaving the body of the Gorgon lying where it fell, Harry ran back to Neville. He turned off his lightsabers. Neville was standing, and cradled a small chick he had picked out of a pile of ashes on the floor. They stared at each other for a moment, turned, and ran for Ginny.

Ginny was clutching a black, leather book in her arms, and was still unconscious.

"She won't wake," said a voice. An older boy, dressed in older style Slytherin robes was walking up to them. He carried Ginny's wand, twirling it gently in his long, delicate fingers.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. The troopers aimed their weapons at him, but didn't fire since Potter was engaging him in talk.

"Ginny was right about you, you know," the boy said. "You truly are heroic. It confirms that you were the chosen one after all. So how did you do it?"

"How did I do what?" Harry asked. He was wary at the sudden appearance of this boy next to Ginny.

"How did a mere baby defeat the greatest wizard of all time?" the boy asked.

"Who are you?" Harry asked again. "What do you mean that Ginny was right about me? How do you know Ginny, and what is wrong with her?"

"So many questions," the boy said. "Tell you what, I'll answer yours if you answer mine."

"I don't know how I defeated Voldemort," Harry said. "It was probably something my mother did. Who are you?"

"My name is Tom Riddle," the boy answered. "Why do you think your mother did something and not your father? He was the Pureblood wizard, after all. Your mother was just a Muggleborn."

"I honestly don't know," said Harry. "I was an infant. What is wrong with Ginny?"

"She poured her heart and soul into a diary," Tom said. "The diary is taking over."

"Is there any way to stop it?" Harry asked.

"It's my turn," Tom chided. "Are you prepared to meet your parents?"

"Yes," Harry said, gripping his lightsaber. "Are you prepared to meet yours?"

"Snappy comeback, Harry," Tom said, "but I'm immortal, so no. Did you know that the Gorgons are only Her attendants? They worship Her. She is their queen. She gives them commands and they follow."

"No, I didn't," Harry said. "So what does that make you?"

"I'm the one who controls the queen," Tom said with a smile. "Your fight has just begun. Goodbye, Harry Potter." Tom turned to the statue and spoke to it in a language predominantly composed of hissing. The mouth of the statue began to open. The feeling of fear sharpened. Harry closed his eyes and began to give himself to the Force.

"Now you will die, Potter," Tom said. A loud hissing filled the chamber as the basilisk emerged from the statue and said something to Riddle. Tom answered back in the same language. Harry didn't dare open his eyes, but he could sense where everyone was in the Force.

He could feel Neville hiding behind one of the pillars. He could feel Shooter and the remnants of Blue Team begin to attack the basilisk. The basilisk was much bigger and slower than the gorgon, but their blaster fire didn't seem to do much more than make the snake mad.

The basilisk struck at where Harry was standing, but missed when he ducked out of the way. It reared back in time to avoid the blade of Harry's lightsaber as he counterattacked. The basilisk whipped its tail and swept Shooter off his feet and into a column, where he collapsed. MeiIlo and Trance continued to fire. The basilisk suddenly swiveled its head to look at them, and they went stiff as statues.

Harry took the opportunity to attack and jumped onto the the basilisk just behind its head. Knowing it could not look at him, he was able to open his eyes. He could barely hold on as the giant snake thrashed about, trying to dislodge him. Harry let his wand spring into his hand and he tried to cast a sticking charm on himself. The basilisk gave out a hiss of triumph as Harry was flung off before he could cast it.

Harry hit the floor and rolled. Unfortunately, before he could stop his momentum he impacted one of the columns. His lightsaber went flying, and he felt the sharp pain in his chest of broken ribs. Thanking the Force that he had at least kept hold of his wand, he summoned his lightsaber back to him. Turning to face the snake again, he squinted his eyes in case he needed to close them in a hurry. The snake wasn't facing him, though. It was looming over the two troopers. Trance was missing a leg, and the Meilo was still petrified. The snake reared back and then opened its mouth wider than Harry would have thought possible. Harry screamed as the snake descended on Meilo, fitting him entirely in its mouth. It swallowed him whole.

Harry snapped his ruby red lightsaber into life again. As the snake turned to face him, he clamped his eyes. shut. The Force, having no need of his eyes, guided his lightsaber up as the basilisk struck. The snake' s eyes rolled to the back of its head as the red blade penetrated the roof of its mouth and emerged through the top of its skull. It writhed as it died, it's body impacting several of the columns surrounding the clearing and breaking them. There was a groan of moving stone from above as the weight of the chamber ceiling shifted. Several boulder sized chunks of stone fell, but fortunately did not hit anyone.

Harry turned off his lightsaber and faced Tom Riddle, who was looking at the dying basilisk with a thunderous expression. Riddles glared at Harry.

"You will be punished for that," Riddle said, petulantly.

"If you don't mind," said a new voice, "I'll handle the punishments around here, Tom."

"Dumbledore!" yelled the boy. The Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick emerged from the pillar forest and approached the Riddle.

"I should have known you would be skulking around," said Tom.

"Considering this is my school," said Dumbledore, calmly, "it was foolish of you indeed if you thought that I would not come to my students aid."

"You're too late, Dumbledore," Tom said. "I've won! Young Ginny grows weaker and weaker, while I grow stronger and stronger. In just a few more minutes, Lord Voldemort will rise again! Very… much… alive!"

"Voldemort!" Harry exclaimed.

"Or not," said Dumbledore, using his wand to fish the book out of Ginny Weasley's clasped hands. Riddle waved Ginny's wand and it flew away from Dumbledore into the outstretched hands of Professor Flitwick, who began to quickly examine it.

"Give that back!" yelled Tom, his eyes flashing red.

"You forgot to say the magic word," said Flitwick. He dropped the book on the ground, pointed his wand at it, and called out " _diffindo_!" The book sat there, unaffected by the severing charm. Tom began to laugh.

"You see?" he taunted them, "my horcruxes make me undefeatable." Professor Flitwick looked up upon hearing the word "horcruxes."

"Oh!" Flitwick exclaimed in understanding. "So that's why…" he said. Tom watched with growing horror as Flitwick readied his wand again.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" The tiny professor shouted.

"No!" Tom screamed as the green spell flashed over the diary. Tom vanished in the blink of an eye. At the same time, Ginny opened her eyes and gasped for breath. She looked around her in confusion.

"Harry?" she asked in a quiet squeak. "Where are we?"

"In the Chamber of Secrets," Harry answered.

"Harry," Ginny said, "it was me. I tried to tell someone, I tried to get rid of it..."

"It was not your fault, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said. Ginny gasped as he came into her view.

"Headmaster," she whimpered, "I tried to give it to you, I really did..."

"It's alright now," Dumbledore said. "I am very proud of how hard you fought against him." McGonagall sat down next to the girl and wrapped her in a hug.

"It's alright, dear," McGonagall said, comforting the young girl. "You are not to blame for this. You tried to tell us. I'm sorry I didn't investigate as thoroughly as I should have. Please do not blame yourself."

Dumbledore examined the body of Professor Lockhart.

"I am very sorry, my friend," he said, softly. Albus placed Gilderoy's wand on his chest.

Harry looked at the frozen troopers, then at Draco, and finally at Dumbledore attending to Lockhart's body.

"Malfoy will pay for this," Harry said.

"I should think being petrified should be more than enough to end your feud," Professor Flitwick said, disapprovingly.

"Not Draco," Harry protested, angrily. "His father. Lucius Malfoy is responsible for this. He started it all!"

"Mr. Malfoy will face the full force of the law for his crimes, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said. He faced Harry and softened his tone. "Please don't take any rash actions in the name of vengeance, Harry. That is not the path Master Toma would wish you to take." It did not escape Harry's notice that the Headmaster had referred to Toma as 'master' for the first time. He did not yet know whether that was to influence him or in genuine respect.

"I won't attack him unless he attacks someone first, if that's what you're worried about," Harry said. "But I won't let him get away with this, either." Harry turned and faced the basilisk.

"I need to get him out of there," Harry said.

"Get whom out of where, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"I need to get Meilo out of the basilisk," Harry said, flatly. "It ate him." He ignited his lightsaber and moved to cut the carcass open.

"Harry, stop!" commanded Dumbledore.

"I can't just leave him in there," Harry protested.

"I understand your anguish, Harry," Dumbledore said, "but we must not cut it open. Every part of a basilisk is deadly, and it will take a team of trained professionals to safely extract Mr. Meilo. I will personally see to it that this is handled with all the respect he is due. For now, though, I'm afraid we must leave him."

"How will we get out of here?" asked Neville.

"The same way we all came in," Dumbledore said. The teachers levitated the petrified victims and the body of Professor Lockhart and they all left for the chamber entrance together.


	27. Chapter 27

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Pomona Sprout sat stiffly in her seat and tried not to whimper. She was a woman of the earth. She loved things that grew in soil. She joked that she was a well grounded person. ' _I don't even like to fly',_ she thought to herself. _'How did I let myself get talked into this?'_

She was strapped int a seat on the Troopers flying machine and was terrified out of her mind. Her fingers gripped the armrests of her seat so hard they were making indentations in the hard foam cushioning. Her eyes were glued to the blue waves speeding along just below the flying machine. While she didn't like the heights associated with flying, she liked flying this low over the water at an insane speed even less.

"Blondie?" she asked in the bravest voice she could muster. "Must we fly this fast so low?" Pomona, like many of the professors at Hogwarts, had a very difficult time getting used to addressing the troopers in such a familiar manner, but she made a greater effort to make the guests feel welcome than many of her colleagues did.

"We do have to fly this low," answered the small, blond woman. "This ship was not designed for stealth. We're trying to avoid being detected." She was studying a display which Pomona could not understand. "You do need to slow down, though," she said to the pilot. "We're going to draw attention flying this fast."

Wings nudged the throttle forward another half an inch. The ship accelerated. The pilot had a stormy expression on his face and was breathing heavily.

"Wings," Blondie said, trying to get his attention. She diverted her attention from her control panel to look at the pilot. "We're going to be seen if you don't slow down."

Wings still didn't answer.

"Wake up!" Blondie yelled, hitting the pilots shoulder slightly with her fist. This finally drew his attention.

"Those things killed Rev and we're on a glorified shopping trip," Wings snarled. "We should be back there, helping to kill those... things."

"Rev was my friend too," Blondie said, "but we can grieve for him later. We have a mission. We have orders, and we have to carry them out."

Wings didn't answer.

"Without being spotted," Blondie added, exasperated.

_'Fantastic,'_ thought Pomona to herself. _'I'm in a flying death trap flown by an emotionally unstable man.'_

A few seconds later a high pitched beeping sound filled the cockpit. It was accompanied with a flashing red light on Blondie's control panel.

"We just got pinged," Blondie said, shaking her head. "Single aircraft, thirty thousand feet, bearing three three zero." On a monitor to Blondie's right, Pomona saw a picture of what looked to her like a strange grey bird with a dinner plate on its back.

"Did you turn on the cloak?" Wings asked.

"Yes," Blondie answered, "but it's not designed to be used at this speed in an atmosphere."

Wings didn't respond.

"Surface vessel," Blondie reported, examining her display. "Correction, three surface vessels."

"I'll skirt along to the right of them," Wings finally said. He moved one of his control sticks and the ship banked slightly to the right. The inertial dampers kept the motion from harming the passengers, but Pomona could still feel it.

"It's a group of eight vessels," Blondie reported, getting a better reading on her display as they flew closer. "At this rate we're going to fly right through their formation."

"What are they going to do about it?" Wings asked, belligerently. A yellow light began to flash.

"We're being hailed," Blondie said. She flipped a switch and they all heard a short burst of static, followed by a voice.

"Unidentified aircraft," a male voice announced, "you are approaching restricted airspace. Change course immediately to heading zero three five and identify yourself." They did not answer, nor did Wings obey the order to change course.

"Distance to nearest contact, two eight zero klicks," Blondie said. There was a warbling alarm as one glowing dot separated from one of the surface ships. It was quickly followed by another dot. The two new contacts accelerated towards the center crosshair that indicated their position.

"Missile alert!" Blondie called out.

* * *

On one of the grey support ships, first one, then another surface to air missile leapt from the rail they had sat on for the entire cruise. Once the missiles were far enough away from the ship, the boosters detached and fell into the ocean. A solid mass of fuel ignited and a plume of fire erupted from the rear of the missiles as they began chasing down the intruder at Mach 3.5.

On the deck of the American aircraft carrier U.S.S. Enterprise, two fighter planes were igniting their engines. Three minutes after the incoming aircraft was detected, they screamed off the the deck of the catapult one after another. As soon as they were airborne they turned to intercept the intruding aircraft. Their wings swept back to form a delta shape as they slipped past the speed of sound.

* * *

"We have two bogies in pursuit," Blondie called out, annoyed. "Do you want me to fly?"

"No," Wings said.

"Then would you?" she asked.

Wings didn't answer. Flipping a switch on his panel, a red box appeared around each of the dots on the radar screen that were rapidly making their way to the center crosshair. A moment later a high pitched beeping indicated a target lock. Pressing his weapons trigger, two small interceptor missiles launched from the transport. Seconds later there were twin explosions as the incoming missiles were destroyed. They had a brief view of a large ship with a flight deck as the Thunderclap screamed overhead. There was a visible wake being left behind the carrier as it changed course to avoid any ordinance the unknown aircraft may have deployed.

Wings fire-walled the throttle and the transport shot forward. It quickly accelerated to over Mach 4, leaving the fighter aircraft far behind. More dots appeared on the radar, following them.

"Four more missiles, in pursuit." reported Blondie. "We're overheating."

" _How can they travel so quickly between stars but not here?"_ Pomona wondered. She would have asked, but feared distracting the two while they were apparently under attack. Blondie answered her unasked question anyway.

"Damn it, Wings," Blondie complained, "we can't travel this fast in an atmosphere! We're going to rip ourselves apart!" As she said this, Pomona realized the seat she was in was actually shaking. Looking out the window to her right, she could see the wing out that side was starting to glow orange. Additional warning lights began to flash.

"We'll slow down once we get past them," Wings answered. A few seconds later, some of the beeping stopped.

"The missiles have lost lock," Blondie said, calmer. "They're gone." She glared at Wings, then returned her attention to her display.

"They can't catch up," Wings said, trying to divert Blondie's temper. It didn't work.

"I'm taking the controls," she declared. "You are compromised."

"I'm sorry," Wings said. "I've got it under control, now. I'll be fine."

Blondie glared at him again and he turned over control of the ship to her station. She immediately reduced the throttle and the ship stopped shaking. The rest of the beeping slowed, then stopped as cooling systems bled heat off of the skin of the ship.

"Watch the radar," she ordered Wings. "I'm going to get us back on course, maintain this speed for two more minutes to get us out of range of any pursuers, and then slow down."

"Roger," Wings acknowledged. He sounded subdued, but he was back in control of himself.

* * *

It was a strange procession of people and floating bodies that was progressing down the hallway. Dumbledore led the way back to the hospital wing. Harry hung his head in shame. He was dreading what Master Toma would think of his actions. While he had saved Ginny, he knew that it was the attack on Hermione that had really prompted him to lead two other students down to the Chamber. Toma would not be impressed with that.

"Harry!" came a yell. Aurors Tonks and Dawlish were running towards them. Dawlish was scowling, but Tonks grabbed him into a hug and squeezed him tight. "We've been looking all over for you," she scolded him. "We had to search every compartment of the train before we found out you had gone back to the school."

"We cannot protect you if you don't let us," Dawlish added.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I figured you would know when Professor McGonagall asked Neville and I to come with her."

"No," Tonks said, shooting a glare at Minerva. "We'll be having a few words about that later."

"I'm sure that conversation will be most illuminating," Dumbledore said, drawing the aurors attention to himself. “In the meantime, we would be grateful for your help."

The two aurors fell in line and added their levitation charms to the procession of petrified bodies floating through the corridor.

As they entered the hospital wing, the group saw a now healed Professor Snape manning Madam Pomphrey's desk. Snape stared at the body of Professor Lockhart, his face betraying no emotion.

"Headmaster?" he asked. "What has happened?"

"All in good time, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Please see to the students and administer whatever aid you can."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said. He gestured at Harry and Neville, indicating that they should sit on two adjacent hospital beds. He drew his wand and began examining their injuries. Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva," he said. "Please contact Saint Mungo's. We are going to need several healers stationed here till Madam Pomfrey can be restored. Then contact Amelia Bones. I foresee the immediate need for additional Auror support."

The doors to the Hospital Wing slammed open with a bang. Lucius Malfoy stormed in. He rushed to Draco's frozen body, glaring at Harry as he crossed the room.

"What have you done to my son?" he snarled at Dumbledore.

"He has been petrified," Professor Dumbledore answered, calmly. "He was very fortunate. Others in his position have died today."

"He should not have been in that position at all!" Mr. Malfoy yelled, his face turning red with rage.

"On that point we are in agreement," Dumbledore said. "While Draco was quite foolish to venture down in to the chamber at all, though, I believe the blame for the incident should be laid at the feet of the person responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets in the first place."

"And," Lucius prompted, "Who is it?"

"You, of course," Dumbledore said. "You arranged for your master's diary to be placed with a first year student, and you even abused the position you maneuvered yourself into to prevent that student from turning it over to me."

Malfoy's eyers narrowed at Dumbledore.

"A very interesting accusation," Malfoy hissed. "Why don't you prove it?"

"We will, of course," Dumbledore said. "We have Dobby, after all." Malfoy's face went white. "In your efforts to kill him as cruelly as possible you left him just enough time for us to save him. His testimony will ensure you will never harm this school or it's students again.”

“Dobby!” Lucius called out. He looked expectant, then confused as his House-Elf failed to appear. ”Dobby, come here!” A few more seconds passed and then Lucius looked back at Dumbledore with triumph in his eyes.

”You have nothing,” he sneered. 

“On the contrary,” Dumbledore replied, ”we have all that we need. Aurors, arrest him, if you please."

"You'll have to kill me first," Malfoy snarled. With a twist of his wrist, he withdrew his wand from his walking stick and pointed it at Harry. Dumbledore had his wand out and pointed at Malfoy before the younger man had even finished drawing his. The headmaster cast a disarming charm at Malfoy just as a black shadow dashed into the room and flew towards Him. Malfoy tried to grasp for his wand as it flew out of his hand just as Padfoot leapt. 

Sirius had finally made it back to the main floor in time to see a line of floating bodies flying slowly into the Hospital Wing. His heart leapt as he saw a boy who was the spitting image of James walking in the procession. He had ben inching his way to the door to listen when he heard Malfoy threaten his Godson. Instinct took over as he sprang forward. His powerful hind legs sprung him in to the air as he leapt at Malfoy.

Instead of grabbing Lucius's wand, which is what he was aiming for, Padfoot's sharp teeth sunk instead into Malfoy's thumb and index finger. Malfoy yowled in pain as the large dog ripped the fingers from his hand.

Malfoy ignored his mangled hand and scrabbled on the floor in search of his wand. With a snap and a hum, a brilliant beam of emerald green light appeared before his throat. Malfoy looked up and saw two green eyes staring coldly at him. He froze. He had heard stories of what that light sword of Potter's could do, and he now felt the heat of it next to his throat. His hands were yanked behind his back by Tonks and Dawlish, and they secured him with ropes they conjured from their wands. Harry turned his lightsaber off and faced the dog who was spitting out Malfoy's fingers onto the floor.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said, turning his wand onto the dog. "Please do not make this difficult. I will guarantee your safety and a fair trial, but you must turn yourself in now."

The dog looked sheepish. He looked at the Aurors who were finished securing Malfoy. They were also blocking Padfoot's escape from the room. He shifted into Sirius Black, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I don't suppose i could trouble you for a glass of water?" Sirius asked. "I'm afraid dealing with Malfoy has left a bad taste in my mouth."

"Of course," Dumbledore said, relieved this would end peacefully. "Severus?" He turned to find his Potions Master's back exiting the Hospital Wing, his hands clenched in anger.

"Well," Dumbledore said to no one, "I suppose I should have seen that one coming."

* * *

Amelia Bones reached into her desk drawer and removed a headache potion. Minerva McGonagall had just finished telling the DMLE director about the amazing and terrifying events that had transpired at Hogwarts. She found it hard to follow the story of gorgans, giant snakes, ghost students from fifty years ago, and a dead professor. What had her reaching for her potions stash was the Headmaster interrupting to add claims of Lucius Malfoy attacking a student, Sirius Black mauling Malfoy then giving himself up, and the possibility of those Troopers of Mr. Potter's off getting illegal potions from South America.

"Let me gather some more Aurors," she told the Headmaster, "and we'll be right there."

"Please use the floo in my office," Dumbledore offered.

* * *

Amelia was in a quandary. When she exited the floo into Dumbledore's office, she saw Lucius Malfoy tied up and sitting in an extremely uncomfortable chair in the middle of the room. His right hand was covered in a bandage. Over his mouth was a gag which, judging by the smirk on McGonagall's face, had been applied by the Transfiguration professor. Sirius Black was also restrained, though not as securely. He was not gagged, and was talking quietly with Professor Flitwick.

"The problem isn't that I don't believe you," she said to Dumbledore, "it's that your only real witness is a house-elf. I just don't think the Wizengamot is going to accept the testimony of an elf, no matter how abused he was by Malfoy."

"You won't need the elf," said a voice from the doorway. Theodore Nott Sr. had entered the office and was exchanging glares with Lucius Malfoy. "I'm here to inform the DMLE of a plot by Lucius Malfoy intended to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to life."

"That's imposible," Amelia protested. "You-Know-Who died that Halloween in 1981. No one can bring back the dead."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Nott responded. "I was only part of that group because I was under the _Imperius_ curse. I only know that the curse on me broke that night. As for Lucius here, he told me this morning he had a plan to bring him back, and that's what all these attacks have been about."

"You're just coming forward with this information now?" Bones asked, incredulously.

"As I said, I only learned of it this morning," Nott responded. "The rest of my day was tied up in meetings of the Board of Governors. When I tried to contact you at your office I was told you were here. Given what we've learned about his activities, the other Governors and I have decided to sack Lucius from the High Inquisitor position, and from the Board entirely."

"What do you know of this plot?" Amelia asked.

"No specifics," Nott confessed, "but i can testify that he is involved with the troubles the school has been dealing with. He told me that much, and that should be enough to justify verituserum, given the seriousness of the threat."

"That would have to be approved by the Wizengamot," Amelia said.

"I can assure you you'll get the votes required," Nott said.

"Very well," Amelia agreed. "Shacklebolt, transport the prisoner to the holding cells and get him processed."

Lucius Malfoy observed the back and forth between his one time friend and the director of the DMLE with a mixture of rage and horror. He began screaming out to Dumbledore, but all that came out was a muffled mumble thanks to the gag that wouldn't come off.

"One moment, please," Dumbledore called to the Aurors, who had begun dragging a struggling Lucius Malfoy out of the office. Dumbledore swished his wand and the gag flew away, dissolving into nothing. "Was there something you wished to say?"

"Dumbledore, you must stop this," Malfoy pleaded. "I can get you anything. Purse strings opened, help with legislation, name it and it's yours!"

"I cannot help you, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said.

"Not even for your Muggle Protection Act?" Malfoy asked, shrewdly.

"I would be delighted to get that law back on track," Dumbledore said, "but I'm afraid the price is simply too high."

"Am I not worthy of your redemption?" Lucius rasped. Dumbledore gave him a piercing look.

"Redemption?" Albus asked. "I suppose I am rather famous for having waxed poetic on the subject. It is a very positive force. I do believe the world would be a much better place if there were more redemption in it. I'm afraid, however, that you have vastly misunderstood."

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked, confused.

"Redemption is not something that can be given," Dumbledore explained. "It is something that must be earned. Redemption is a combination of two vitally important components. Redemption is impossible without both of them working together."

"And what are those?" Lucius asked.

"Repentance," Dumbledore answered, "and restitution. You must examine your actions and recognize them to be wrong. You must understand the evil you have done and admit to having taken those actions willingly. You must be truly sorry for those actions and their consequences. Finally, you must do everything in your power to make things as right again as you are capable of. Often, this is a lifetime endeavour, only truly earned after your death."

"Then what is the point of it?" sneered Malfoy.

"The point, Lucius," Dumbledore answered, "is that we have already seen what you have done with a second chance when you bought one eleven years ago. I see no reason to waste time and resources offering you a third chance. If the decision had rested with me, I would have seen you in Azkaban at the end of the war. You have more than earned a stay there since." He turned to Director Bones and the aurors who were guarding Malfoy.

"Madam Bones," he said, "please remove Mr. Malfoy from my school."


	28. Chapter 28

_I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that._

* * *

Awareness returned slowly. Like eyes adjusting to a suddenly dark room, details began to fill in. He was Toma. He was in a bed. It seemed very odd to him that he should be in a bed. There was a sense of wrongness about being in a bed. He felt like a Padawan who had fallen asleep during a lesson. His arms tingled like they had fallen asleep. With a wave of painful pinpricks that made him feel as his limbs were made of static, his awareness expanded to his entire body.

Everything was still dark, but he could hear voices. He couldn't understand what they were saying, though. They sounded muffled and distant, like they were in another room. The absolute darkness suddenly seemed less absolute. It was still pitch black, but it felt more like an absence of light than a presence of dark. He fell asleep again.

With a start, he came awake. Everything was a blur of black and white, but as he looked around him, sepia tones began to color his vision as his eyes focused. With a feeling of panic he had not felt since his own Jedi Trials, he remembered Harry. They were walking down a Hogwarts corridor on patrol when something happened. He couldn't remember what it was, but he had a feeling of intense danger.

"Harry! Run!" he yelled out, lifting his head off the pillow and struggling to sit up.

"Please relax," a soothing female voice with an Earth accent said as hands pushed him back down. It was a woman with long black hair, wearing robes with an emblem on the breast. "You are not in danger. Do not get up. We are here to help you." Whomever it was, they were strong enough to keep him down as he fought to rise.

"Where is Harry?" he demanded. He was still only seeing blurry images, but they were in full color now.

"I'm here, Master," his Padawan said. Harry's blurry head appeared in his field of view, then was pushed back by the woman. "Please, don't get up," Harry said. "The healers say you need to rest."

"What happened?" Toma asked.

"We were attacked by a Gorgon," Harry answered.

"This is not the time," the woman said. "Suffice it to say, you were petrified and unconscious. We've restored you, but it will take several hours until you've recovered enough to ask questions."

"Who are you?" Toma asked.

"That is a question," the woman scolded. "I'm a healer from Saint Mungo's Hospital," she answered in a softer tone. "You may call me Healer Tonks."

"Rest, Master," Harry said. "I'll give you a full report when you've recovered."

With that reassurance, Toma stopped trying to fight Healer Tonks and laid his head back down. The pins and needles were still racing up and down his body.

"How are you feeling?" Healer Tonks asked.

"It is of no consequence," Toma said. He flexed the muscles in his arms and legs and was pleased to find the painful tingling had greatly subsided.

"Oh, so you're one of that sort, are you?" asked Healer Tonks with a smile that did not reach her eyes. "I know you're not from around here, but I'm quite sure the Healers from wherever it is you come from wouldn't accept that as an answer. It's certainly not going to work with me. Now, how are you feeling?"

"As it happens," Toma said, "you are correct about the Jedi Healers. They are also quite persistent. I believe you would get along with them very well."

"Isn't that nice?" Healer Tonks said, sweetly. "Don't think for a moment you're going to get away with that, though." She pierced him with a glare and asked again in a tone that brooked no arguments. "How are you feeling?"

Toma sighed and relented. Healer Tonks wrote some orders in a book adjusting the medications Toma was to receive and gave instructions to an assistant to make him comfortable.

"Whom do you have in custody?" Cornelius asked, incredulously.

"Lucius Malfoy," Amelia answered. They were in the Minister's office, and Amelia had just dropped this bombshell in Cornelius's lap.

"Surely, you cannot be serious," Cornelius protested. "He is an upstanding member of our society. That's not even to mention his incredibly generous donations to St. Mungo's, the Ministry Building Repair Fund, and many other worthy causes!"

"He was also," Amelia responded, "just caught red handed trying to resurrect You-Know-Who."

Cornelius's face went white.

"That is not possible," he mumbled. "You can't bring anyone back from the dead. Everyone knows that you can't do that!"

"Dumbledore says he's not really dead," Amelia said.

"Poppycock," Cornelius retorted. "Everybody knows Harry Potter killed him on the same night You-Know-Who killed little Harry's parents."

"Even if that's so," Amelia countered, "Lucius still made the attempt, regardless of whether or not he would have succeeded."

"Well," Cornelius said weakly, "perhaps a fine."

"He was also responsible," Amelia said, reading from a parchment of charges, "for the petrification of Toma Kendet, guardian to Harry Potter, the petrification of nine of the Troopers assigned to protect Harry Potter, the deaths of three additional Troopers, grievous injuries suffered by the Heir of the House of Longbottom, the petrification of five students including his own son, and the death of Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Oh, my goodness," Cornelius groaned, holding his head in his hands. He turned to face the wall. "This is a disaster."

"Minister," Amelia said, "I know Lucius Malfoy is a donor to your campaign, but you need to cut him loose. We have the votes needed to question him under Veritaserum. If he's not really responsible for it, the truth will come out."

Cornelius thought as quickly as he could. He was more terrified of You-Know-Who than he could even put into words. He was also terrified of the damage a freely talking Lucius Malfoy with a grudge against him could cause. It was time to do some damage control.

"We need to do this quietly," Cornelius said, his voice shaking. "I'll call for a closed session of the court. Talk with these votes you say you have. I want the questioning done in private. The court scribe will be present to keep everything legal. I do not want him able to speak at the trial. His Veritaserum testimony will have to suffice."

"Minister?" Amelia asked, shocked.

"I do not want to believe that You-Know-Who can come back," he said, getting his voice under control. He turned to face Amelia again. "But if it's at all possible, as Dumbledore apparently believes, then I don't want to give Lucius the chance to tell anyone else how to do it."

* * *

"What is your full name?" Madam Bones asked him.

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy," he said in a monotone.

"What is your profession?" she asked.

"I have never needed to work," he answered.

"Are you a Death Eater?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"Do you support You-Know-Who willingly?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"Did you attempt to resurrect You-Know-Who?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"Do you believe your attempt would have succeeded?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"Was it your intention for people to die while attempting to resurrect You-Know-Who?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Was it your intention for people to be injured while attempting to resurrect You-Know-Who?" she asked.

"I was hoping for death, but injury was also acceptable," he answered.

"That will be enough," a voice that sounded like a disgusted Cornelius Fudge said. "Give him the antidote and then gag him. We have more than enough to go to trial.

* * *

"Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot," Cornelius Fudge said to the assembled men and women in plum colored robes, "This court is now in session. Today we will be hearing two trials. Neither should take a great deal of time. Mr. Clerk?"

"The Wizengamot Vs. Lucius Malfoy," the court clerk called out.

"Bring out the accused," Fudge said. A door opened, and four Auror's escorted Lucius Malfoy in and sat him down in an iron chair with rattling chains that wrapped their way around him as he sat. The gag over his mouth could not be removed by trying to rub it off.

"Read the charges," Cornelius said. Lucius continued to glare at Fudge as Amelia Bones read out the lengthy list of charges.

"Read the testimony," Cornelius continued. Amelia read the questions and answers that Lucius had provided under the truth serum.

"Court Scribe," Cornelius asked, "is the reading accurate?"

"Yes, Minister," the scribe said.

"Please lift your wands and light them if you vote to accept the testimony as presented in the reading of the questioning during Veritaserum," the Minister called out. More than three quarters of the Wizengamot lit their wands.

"Very good," Fudge said. "Let the record show that the testimony is accepted. As there is no further testimony required, we will now vote on whether he is guilty or innocent of these charges. If he is found innocent, then he is to be released with our apology. If he is found guilty, he will be sentenced to life in prison for the murder of the outstanding author and teacher of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, Gilderoy Lockhart, as well as the other charges. Please lift and light your wands if you believe Lucius Malfoy is innocent of these charges."

About a quarter of the Wizengamot lit their wands.

"Please lift and light your wands if you believe Lucius Malfoy is guilty of these charges," Fudge said.

Again, three quarters of the Wizengamot lit their wands. Lucius glowered murderously at them.

"Very well," Minister Fudge said, banging a small gavel. "Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, you have been found guilty of murder in an attempt to resurrect the dark wizard known as You-Know-Who, as well as related lesser charges. You are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment at the Azkaban prison, sentence to begin immediately.

Lucius Malfoy was dragged out of the court by the four Aurors that had brought him in. His muffled screaming could be heard until the door to the chamber slammed shut once more.

"Court Clerk," Fudge called out. "Next case, please."

"The Wizengamot Vs. Sirius Black," the clerk called out.

* * *

Draco had never been so confused or conflicted in his life. Up until now, his father had always been the primary parent in his family. Father was the one who taught him about the major players in the Wizengamot. By the time Draco was ten he could tell you where each of the most influential members stood on the main issues of the day. He learned who had money and who needed it. Father taught him how much to give to achieve the results he desired.

Father was the one who set the rules, and father was the one to punish Draco if he were caught breaking them. He was never punished if he got away with breaking the rules, even if Father found out after the fact. The lesson was that rules only mattered if you got caught.

Mother was different. She was a daughter of the house of Black, which meant she was used to wealth and respect from her name alone. She usually only concerned herself with the most trivial aspects of Draco's upbringing. She bought his clothes, his broom, his toys and his treats. Mother set his diet (with plenty of the candies and sweets he loved) and was generally in charge of pampering and fretting over him.

His education of Pure-blood politics and worldview was entirely set by his father. Now his father was as good as gone. Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban for attempting to resurrect the Dark Lord. It was a quick trial, and closed to the public. Once Fudge had realized how much damage Father could lay at the Minister's feet, a very quick and damning investigation was pushed through. Father was arrested, tried, and convicted within a day and a half. Fudge, fearing the damage a freely talking Lucius Malfoy could cause him, even made sure Father was not allowed to speak on his own behalf. Veritaserum was administered in a private interrogation and the relevant answers were played back to the court after the fact.

Father wasn't the only loss for the Malfoy family that day. Once Draco's Grandfather had heard about the all too quick conviction, he rose from his bed for the first time in over a year. Abraxas Malfoy was one hundred and three and in extremely poor health. For several years it seemed that he was holding onto life with an iron will alone. Mother had begged her Father-in-Law to go back to bed, but he demanded an audience with the Wizengamot to protest the imprisonment of his heir. He had hobbled into the chamber, screamed obscenities at them for a full minute, and then dropped dead of a massive heart attack.

The rumor mill of the British Magical World was fueled by the rhetoric of The Daily Prophet. It took only half a day for word to reach every magical home in England that old Abraxas Malfoy was in the middle of declaring a blood feud on the Houses of Black and Potter when Magic itself judged him as unworthy and struck him dead.

Thus, Draco was now the Head of his House. Oh, his mother held the regency, but Draco was actually named as Head. He couldn't be forced into a marriage anymore. He was no longer shackled by his father's rules. He honestly didn't know if he should thank Potter and Black or try to kill them.

He considered his actions. He had followed Potter. Zabini would likely be hounding him for months after this. Named as Head of House, even with Mother holding the regency, should lessen how much people could complain and harass him, but it wouldn't stop it entirely. He would have to think about how to frame this.

* * *

Harry Potter sat in the Gryffindor Common Room. Tonks, having declared that things were now calm enough, was presumably off yelling at Professor McGonagall for bringing Harry back to the castle without his Auror guard. That's what she was threatening to do when she left Gryffindor Tower several hours earlier, at any rate. Auror Dawlish was sitting in a chair near the fire, watching Harry. Apparently Dawlish now considered the young Jedi to be a flight risk.

Master Toma was awake at last, but the Healers were insisting that he rest. He wanted to stay with Hermione, but they were adamant that he leave the Hospital Wing. There were too many patients, and not enough Healers, and so he had been unceremoniously shown the door. It felt odd to be in the castle when it was this empty. The vast majority of the students had been evacuated and were now at home. Most of the students who had been left behind were now in the Hospital Wing. The Professors were busy cleaning up the mess from the battle.

Tonks entered the Common Room with a disgruntled look on her face.

"How did it go?" Harry asked.

"She gave me detention for using bad language," Tonks sulked.

Dawlish rolled his eyes.

"Can she do that?" Harry asked. "You're no longer a student."

"As it turns out," Tonks said, "she can. You see, she's on very good terms with my Stealth Professor at the Auror Academy, and as I'm barely holding on in that class by a thread..."

"I'd think you'd do very well in stealth," Harry said, "since you can shape-shift."

"No," Tonks said. "That's Concealment. I'm aces at that. Stealth is all sneaking around and everything. I've go two left feet, so I'm really clumsy."

"You don't have two left feet," Dawlish said, "you just don't pay attention to what your limbs are doing."

"Oh yeah?" Tonks disagreed. She kicked her boots off, revealing that she really did have two left feet." She winked at Harry, then changed her right foot back to normal.

Dawlish rolled his eyes again.

"So you have to do detention at the Academy?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no," Tonks answered, putting her boots back on. "It's just that my Stealth Professor will fail me unless I did the detention with McGonagall."

"You've already done it?" Harry asked. What did you have to do?"

"Lines!" Tonks protested. "I had to write "My mouth is not a toilet" like five hundred times. It's insulting."

"What did you say to her?" Harry asked.

"Oh no," Tonks said. "If I corrupt you she'll just make it worse. You'll have to just use your imagination."

* * *

Sirius Black sat back in his chair and just focused on breathing. He was free. He could just walk down the street now, as himself, and no one could stop him. He was in a room that he had had rented at the Leaky Cauldron.

Amelia had him taken into custody and brought straight to the ministry under armed guard. His trial had been very nearly a formality. Amelia had administered the Veritaserum herself, and had asked all of the questions. The only thing he couldn't answer about that mess of a Halloween night so long ago was what had happened to Peter Pettigrew. Now that the Ministry knew he was the real traitor, they'd be keeping an eye out. He'd told them about all their Animagus forms, but rats were so common it would be hard to find the traitor. That was, if he was even still alive.

He was now aware that his mother had died several years previously. He was astounded to learn that his father had never disowned him. He was the head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. The exonerated head. The house he hated so much as a child was his. He was hesitant to go there, hence his renting this room.

"You look terrible," a voice said. Sirius turned to find Remus Lupin standing in the doorway.

"Remus!" Sirius exclaimed. He crossed the room and the two friends hugged.

"We've got a lot to catch up to do," Remus said.

* * *

Green Squad had been decimated. Red Sarge was acting as the commander till the actual commander was unthawed and active again. He wasn't anticipating Commander Dameron to remain as Commander, though. The Republic wasn't in the habit of retaining Commanders who got more than half the squad killed or incapacitated on what should have been a simple protection mission. Of the twenty troopers in the squad, one was injured, eight were petrified, and three were dead.

He wasn't safe himself. Red team was down 3 petrified troopers. He hoped he didn't lose his lead position. Blue team was even worse off, with Beast being the only healthy member of that team. Shooter was injured, but would recover soon. Trance had looked at the giant snake in the eye, and it was apparently more lethal than the snake people called Gorgons who had petrified so many of them. The damned thing had actually eaten Meilo.

The word from the magic healers was that everyone who was prettified was finally thawed out, but Doc was the only one on her feet yet. He had served with her for a while, and knew there was no one in the galaxy capable of keeping her in bed if there was a trooper down she could be working on.

Wings was a wreck, and Blondie had taken over as lead pilot. That wasn't official yet, but he was sure it would be soon. Whether Wings would be staying in Green Squad at all or not remained to be seen.

"Sarge?" a female voice called him. He looked up and saw that Ice had come to see him. She must have come here straight from the Hospital Wing.

"Ice," Sarge said. "You alright?"

"I'm good," Ice said, as taciturn as she ever was. "I have a request."

* * *

"Master Toma," the blue hologram said. "We are pleased you are finally awake, but are most disturbed by your report."

"Master Meringus," Toma replied, "I would like an explanation."

"An explanation for what?" the small image asked, glowing blue on the desk he was projected onto.

"For why my Padawan was was left without support for over 4 months," Toma answered.

"No support?" Meringus asked. "He had the Troopers with him almost immediately."

"No Jedi support," Toma clarified. "We spoke about this prior to our departure. You, especially, were concerned that Harry was to continue his Jedi training during this critical time. You then left him with no guidance when he needed it most."

Toma stopped short of accusing Master Meringus of hoping Harry would fail, but the accusation was strongly implied. Master Meringus had always opposed Harry being in the order, but had never actively tried to act on his objections before.

"You do not know what has been happening," Meringus protested.

"Since you gave my Padawan no information at all, how could I?" countered Toma.

"Other situations of higher priority required the full attention of the Jedi," explained Meringus.

"Where is Master Yoda?" Toma asked. "I find it difficult to believe that he would classify a Padawan being left to his own devices for this long without support as a low priority."

"Master Toma," Meringus stopped him. "Master Yoda is in a healing coma."

"What?" Toma exclaimed. "What has happened?"

"There was an attack during a trade dispute in the Christoph system," Meringus explained. "A military coup has taken over the elected government of Christophsis and stopped the flow of kyber crystals from that system to the republic. Two Jedi Knights and their Padawans were present at the time, on quests to find lightsaber crystals for the younglings. They were captured and were being held hostage by the deposers. Master Yoda led a team to recover them himself. He was successful in rescuing the hostages, but was gravely injured in the attempt. He was holding off a large number of attackers when they triggered a kyber overload in the chamber he was fighting in. He was recovered, but has been in a healing coma ever since."

Toma could understand why the Council might consider Harry's situation of lesser importance, but he still wasn't happy about it.

"When did this happen?" he asked.

"Not long after you were attacked," Meringus answered.

"When is he expected to recover?" Toma asked.

"Over a month ago," Meringus said in a grim voice..

"We will return at once," Toma said.

"No," Meringus countered. "If your report is accurate, then it would be better for you to remain on Earth for the foreseeable future. Your Padawan has brushed with the Dark Side of the Force and emerged victorious, but it would still be best if he were not thrust into combat until you have had the time to help him process how close he came to falling."

"Combat is still ongoing?" Toma asked.

"Yes," Meringus answered. "All available Jedi are leading troopers to reclaim Christophis and the surrounding systems. It is turning into a very laborious task. The deposers have embedded themselves amongst the citizens. Any determined assault will hurt innocents, and that would exacerbate the political attempts to end this."

"As the Council wishes," Toma acknowledged, "we will remain. Please inform me when Master Yoda awakens, or if there is anything I can do to help."

"There are two other matters to discuss," Meringus said. "First, we require your detachment of troopers if you feel they can be spared. We've actually needed them for some time, but did not wish to recall them until you had recovered. Will you be able to manage without them?"

"Of course," Toma answered, not allowing his annoyance at the not so very veiled insult. "They have sustained some casualties, but are otherwise recovered."

"Very good," Meringus said. "That leaves us with the most delicate matter remaining. Your Padawan appears to be rather attached to this human girl. Your report says he lost control of himself when she was attacked. I am deeply concerned with this attachment. They should be separated immediately."

"No," Toma objected.

"I beg your pardon?" Meringus asked in surprise. "I know you are aware that such attachments are both dangerous and forbidden."

"Under normal circumstances, I would not argue this with you," Toma replied, "but in this case it would be more dangerous to sever this attachment than it would be to allow it to run its course. Unless it is your intention to lose Harry to us forever, then we cannot ask him to choose at this time."

"He should have never been sent there," Meringus grumbled. He was frowning, and was clearly unhappy with the situation.

"That was Master Yoda's choice," Toma said. He would ever admit it, but he took a small amount of pleasure from Meringus's disgruntled grumblings.

"Very well," Meringus grudgingly admitted. "We will continue to wait and see, but I have grave doubts about this situation. It is not traditional." Without waiting for a reply, he terminated the connection.

* * *

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione cried. She was hugging Harry tightly, and didn't appear to have any intention of letting go anytime soon.

"It wasn't your fault," Harry reassured her.

"If I'd only gone to the Quidditch match you, Meilo and Trance would still be alive. And Professor Lockhart!"

"We also still wouldn't know where the chamber was," Harry said, "and all of this would still be going on." He patted her back and disengaged from the hug. He took her hand and held it while he looked her in the eye. "I'm not going back to Coruscant," he said. "At least, not for a while."

He filled her in on their orders, and showed her the letter he had received from her parents while she was recovering. He suddenly found himself being hugged again, even harder than before.

* * *

Ron Weasley was searching under his bed. Once he had woken up, he was immediately set upon by his mother. She was sobbing, saying over and over again how proud he was to try to protect his little sister. He'd been released from the Hospital Wing and had to tell the story of seeing the snake girl come in and attack him over and over again. First to Dumbledore and a bunch of Aurors, and then to his parents. He told it to Harry, Hermione, and Neville, too, but they had stories of their own to tell.

Now, he was finishing packing. They were going home, and he was looking for Scabbers.

"Ron?" Harry's voiced asked. He sounded muffled, since Ron had half his body stuffed under his bed. He pulled himself out.

"Hey, Harry," he said. " You haven't seen Scabbers anywhere, have you?"

"No," Harry answered. "Not since before all this happened. I'm sorry I didn't think to look for him."

"He was in my pocket in the Hospital Wing," Ron said, worried. "I hope that thing didn't eat him."

"The Gorgan?" Harry asked. "I don't know. Maybe."

"I bet she did," Ron said, glumly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He knew he'd be devastated if anything had happened to Hedwig. He helped Ron search, and even enlisted Hermione and Neville to help, but Scabbers was nowhere to be found.

* * *

"I seem to have missed a most eventful time," Toma said. He was sitting in one of the chairs opposite the Headmaster's desk.

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied. "There are a few outstanding issues I'd like to clear up before Harry is released for his summer break."

"Of course," Toma said. "I'm sure the first is where Harry will be staying."

"Yes," Dumbledore said.

"The Council has ordered us to remain on Earth for now," Toma said. "There is a situation in the Republic that we would very much like to keep him out of. We will be staying with the Granger family, at least initially."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure they will be happy to have you. On a less happy note, please be prepared for possible consequences regarding Harry's actions in acquiring the Mandrake Restorative Draught. While I don't anticipate any action being taken, I cannot guarantee it. The Wizengamot can be stubborn about these things. I will, of course, do my best to head off any inquiries."

"The Troopers, for the most part, will be returning to their duties in the Republic," Toma said. "None of the troopers who participated in the action to obtain the draught will be remaining on Earth. Harry did not actually obtain it himself."

"That is an interesting point," Dumbledore said, a bemused expression crossing his face. "As it turns out, it is only the act of importing the draught that is considered illegal. Seen in that light, Harry broke no laws in simply using what the troopers obtained. With the troopers off world, they are beyond the law's reach."

"Not all of them will be leaving," Toma corrected. "None of the troopers staying will have participated in the mission to obtain the draught, though."

"Some of them will be staying?" Dumbledore asked.

"Doc will be remaining with us," Toma answered. "She is very curious about magical medicine, and wishes to study it. She has volunteered to stay and provide us with medical support should the need arise."

"I am pleased you'll have her with you," Dumbledore said. "I was most impressed with her."

"Shooter will also be staying," Toma added. "He will be providing tactical support for Doc. Finally, Ice has chosen to resign from her position and has requested early detachment from the service. She wishes to remain on Earth."

"If you will forgive my curiosity," Dumbledore asked, "why will she be remaining behind?"

"Personal reasons," Toma answered. "That's the only reason she would give."

"Well," Dumbledore said, contemplating the information, "with Dr. Silva and... Ice, I believe, having been petrified and Mr. Shooter involved in the action in the Chamber at the time, there should be no problems. That leaves us only with Dobby's disposition to deal with."

"I believe he is still being kept unconscious?" Toma asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "With Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban, his bond to Dobby will have transferred to young Draco. I do, however, have an idea that might prove to be advantageous to everyone."

* * *

Draco stood at the foot of Dobby's bed. He stared at the metal caps that covered the stumps where his legs used to be. He had always delighted in making Dobby punish himself. He felt very bad about that as he saw the state his father had left the elf in.

"What do you want from me?" Draco asked.

"I want you to release him," Headmaster Dumbledore said, softly.

"He'll just die if I do," Draco protested.

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore corrected him. "While it is commonly believed that house elves will die if set free, there are options available. He can bond to Hogwarts."

"What would he do here?" Draco asked. "He has no legs!"

"I'm sure we can find something to occupy him," answered Dumbledore.

Draco thought about it. They had plenty of other elves. Now that he saw what his father had done, he didn't think he'd be having nearly as many punishments for them, either. He considered the losses his family had sustained just in the last week. His father in Azkaban. His Grandfather dead. A small portion of his inheritance had been confiscated as a fine for Father's crimes. That money had been used to pay Gringotts to recover that Trooper of Potter's who'd been eaten by the Basilisk.

"Wake him," Draco said, making a decision.

Madam Pomfrey looked to Dumbledore for confirmation, and the Headmaster nodded at her. She waved her wand to remove the stasis charm that had kept the house elf unconscious. Dobby's eyes slid open. He shuddered, then started beating his own face with his hands as he started to scream.

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Dobby, stop!" Draco yelled. Dobby choked and spluttered as he obeyed the command from his master. His eyes opened wide in wonder as he felt the bond with Great Master had been severed. He looked and saw Little Master standing by his bedside. Tears filled his eyes and he began to sob. He tried to apologize, but he couldn't do anything till Little Master told him he could.

"Dobby," Draco said. "I'm going to give you one, last order. First though, I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Dobby gasped. Never had Little Master said he was sorry before.

"You're going to a new home, Dobby," Draco said as he removed his Slytherin tie. He handed it to Dobby, who ran it in between his long fingers. He felt the bond to the Malfoy family break. Dobby reeled back as the constant flow of magic and information he received from the bond ceased.

"You are free," Little Master said, curtly. "Find somewhere else to be."

Draco quickly turned and began to leave the room. He turned back at the door and said "You might try Potter." He quickly walked out turned the corner as fast as he could. He began to run. He needed to get somewhere private before anyone could question the tears that were forming in his eyes.

* * *

"So," Cornelius said, "there's just this matter of the illegal import of a dangerous substance to deal with. I had quite the interesting time explaining that part to the Muggle Prime Minister, I can tell you. The Americans were upon arms about it."

"I think we should let that go," Amelia said. "From what Dumbledore said, none of the troopers involved will be remaining on the planet anyway."

The Minister hummed as he considered the matter.

"I don't suppose it would do much good, even if we did press charges," he agreed. "Besides, we had such a narrow miss with the whole Black affair, we don't want to be seen as picking on The Boy Who Lived."

"Of course not," Amelia said. "What of Sirius Black? Will the ministry be compensating him for the false imprisonment?"

"Has he asked for any?" Cornelius asked.

"Not yet," Amelia answered, "but I think it would be prudent to offer him something before he feels like he has to ask."

"Very well," the Minister grumbled. "The ministry will provide an apology and a one hundred fifty thousand galleon payment to Sirius Black in compensation for his unlawful detention and lack of a speedy trial."

His secretary noted this and began the wording of the apology the minister would deliver when it was awarded.

"I trust there were no further inmates being held without trial?" Cornelius asked.

"Actually," Amelia said with a frown, "the audit was completed yesterday. Unfortunately, there is one other case."

"Whom?" Cornelius asked, frowning.

"Brannigan Mulciber," Amelia answered. "He was caught performing the Imperius Curse on an Auror. He was sent to Azkaban around the same time as Sirius. There is no record of a trial."

"There is evidence against him?" Cornelius asked.

"Yes," Amelia answered, consulting the file. "In this case, the suspect was questioned with Veritaserum first. There is no doubt as to his guilt."

"I see," said Cornelius. "I will handle this one, Amelia."

"I think I should," Amelia said, frowning.

"Oh, no," Cornelius said. "You deserve a nice vacation after all your hard work this year. I insist."

"It's really my job to..." Amelia began.

"No, no, no," Cornelius interrupted. "This one I think we can handle much more quietly. In fact, why don't you start your vacation tomorrow.."

Amelia found herself being shown the door. Her vacation paperwork was delivered to her at her desk within an hour. A month's paid vacation for her and Susan at a ministry owned vacation home in Majorca. She opened the folder with Mulciber's interrogation in it and found it was now almost empty. It only contained a small business card sized piece of parchment that simply said 'REDACTED.'

As soon as Amelia had left his office, Cornelius turned to his secretary.

"Amanda," he said, "please get the Azkaban warden on the floo for me, and then get yourself a nice cup of tea. In fact, why don't you take off for the rest of the day. I need to have a quiet word with him. Alone."

* * *

Mulciber sat on the floor of his cell. His mouth hung open and a ribbon of drool hung from his mouth. For most of the nearly twelve years he had been locked in prison he had sat here. He felt the rising of despair that meant a dementor was once again passing by his cell door. This happened so frequently that he barely noticed when it failed to back off to the low level that was always present.

He only reacted when the clacking sound of his cell door being unlocked rang through the small room. He looked up in horror as the flowing black robes of a dementor glided into the cell. He began to scream as a slimy, decayed hand drew back it's hood to reveal the scabbed face and sunken eyeholes of the demon. It's lipless mouth opened and the air whistled as it was sucked into the gaping maw. Mulciber tried to back away, but his back was already against the wall. The dementor bent down to him and his screaming abruptly stopped.

* * *

"I don't want to hear a word about this when we're done," Sirius grumbled.

"This was your idea," Remus protested. "Clearing up loose ends, and all."

"I know," Sirius said, checking up and down the street to make sure no one could see. "This does need to happen, but I can read your mind. You're planning to embarrass me about this later."

"You're paranoid," Remus said. He checked his pocket to make sure the camera he had stashed in there earlier was still there.

"You're sure you remember everything?" Sirius asked. "You'll be doing all the talking, you know."

"For the hundredth time, yes," Remus confirmed. "Now change."

Sirius checked that the way was clear one last time, then shifted into Padfoot. He stood still while Remus affixed a collar around his neck. The dog rolled his eyes as Remus clipped a leash to it and began to walk down the walkway. With a sigh, Padfoot trotted along with him.

* * *

Jenny was home by herself. Roger was at work, and was making good enough money that she hadn't felt pressured to get another job yet. She felt the bump in her middle with her hands and knew she would have her hands full enough when the baby arrived.

She had just been tidying up when the phone rang. It was some man named Remus who said he had some information regarding a flyer he'd seen downtown. There was only one flyer that could be about, so she had invited him over at once.

_Ding dong!_ She put her tea down and went to the door. Opening it, she saw a man standing there with...

"Boomer!"

* * *

"Not a word," Sirius growled.

"Not one word," Remus agreed, smiling. "She was quite taken with you, Boomer."

"She's a nice person," Sirius said. "She deserved to know."

"Yes," said Remus. "She was very upset to learn that not only did 'Boomer' escape to return to his former master, but also that we were moving to the States."

"You know she'd be pressing for visitation rights otherwise," Sirius said. "It's better this way. A clean break. At least she got to say goodbye."

"I think you just wanted another cuddle," Remus said with a chuckle.

"That is not true!" Sirius protested. "She's just a very loving person."

"You're not sleeping in my bed," said Remus.

"I'm never going to live this down, am I?" asked Sirius, with a sigh.

"No, Boomer," answered Remus, "you're not."

* * *

In the black depths of interstellar space, an automated relay station floated. Large flat panels spread out from the central structure. These were fitted with numerous antennae pointed in every direction. It was part of a network of similar stations. They were all connected and allowed communications to be nearly instantly transmitted across the galaxy. It was usually an uninhabited station.

There was currently a small, grey ship beside it. A probe extended from the ship into a hole that it had drilled into the station. In the center of the ship, two beings sat huddled around a console.

They were bipedal, but smaller than an average human. They had arms that seemed to be too long in proportion to their round bodies. Their hands were tipped with delicate fingers which they used to type at keyboards as they stared at data flickering past on large monitors.

"A coded Jedi message?' The first one asked. "Are you sure?

"Yes," the second one answered. "See the symbol in the upper right corner? That's the packet address for the Jedi Temple."

"It could be anything going to them, though," the first suggested. "Food requisitions, perhaps."

"No, "the second one disagreed. "Requisitions for food and normal supplies aren't coded. They don't care who knows what they have for breakfast. Only the Jedi Knights code their messages like this."

"Will they know we've seen it?" The first one worried.

"No," the second answered. There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the tapping of keyboards as the two worked on decoding the message. Finally, they stopped and read the message.

"Forward this to Christoph, top priority," the second one ordered. "General Kaabacus will be most interested in this."

"Why does he care about one Jedi report?" The first one asked, tapping at his panel to send the intercepted report on.

"It's not just any Jedi report," the second one replied, reading it again. "It's a very specific Jedi's report."

* * *

_To be continued._


End file.
